Explore "Helen Vardon's Confession" by R. Austin Freeman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THE cheerful atmosphere of the old house in Wellclose Square soon dissipated my gloomy thoughts. It was nearing supper-time when I arrived, and an agreeable clink of china proceeded from the dining-room, accompanied by a faint aroma suggestive of curry. On my landing I found Lilith and Miss Finch engaged in earnest discussion, and both greeted me as if I had returned after a long absence.
"We have been wondering," said the former, "what had become of our Sibyl," (she had bestowed this title on me, presumably, by reason of my peculiarly 'psychic' cast of countenance). "As for the poor Titmouse," (this was Miss Finch's pet name), "she has been wandering about like a cat that has lost its kitten."