The sulphur-blue moonlight crept farther along the lattice, and shimmered on the river as if a piece of silver foil had been crumpled and straightened out again; and on the smoky, sagging ceiling the shadows fluctuated, soft and enormous, whenever a head or a hand was moved. Laura had laid aside her guitar now, and they, had drawn more closely together, and were telling ghost-stories. Dickie Lemesurier told one that had happened to somebody her mother knew as well as they knew one another sitting there; and then, as Amory put aside her hair again and began to speak, she gave a little shriek: "No--not that _frrrightful_ one out of Myers, Amory!"... But Amory told it, and Katie Deedes remembered the dark stairs, and said that she would never dare to go down them.... So by and by Cosimo got up and lighted the two candles, and the terrors receded as the flames crept up, and Laura was persuaded to sing just one more song and then (she said) she really must go--her people would be wondering whatever had become of her. But Walter said that that was all right: he'd see her home. And Mr. Bielby would go along with Katie and Dorothy, who went together, and of course Cosimo would take Amory herself. Laura tucked the guitar with the coloured ribbons into its case, and reluctantly they sought their hats and coats. Amory was putting her hair up again. Cosimo took two blazing cobs of coal from the fire, putting them out of harm's way on an iron shovel; and as Dorothy saw her friends out and locked the door, the cheerful glow on the ceiling could still be seen where the upper part of the door warped inwards. They groped their way down the dark stairs, and passed in a body up Oakley Street; and at the corner by the King's Road they said good-night. "We walk, I suppose?" Cosimo said to Amory. "Rather!" said Amory. They turned their faces towards Shepherd's Bush. It was as they walked up Redcliffe Gardens that Amory suddenly said, with a little sigh of regret, "Poor Dorothy!" Cosimo nodded. He always understood so quickly; that was the wonderful thing about Cosimo.--"You mean she was a bit out of it?" "She only spoke about three times, and that was to Mr. Bielby." Cosimo gave a shrug, and that was delicate of him too. He knew that it would be a pleasure to Amory to defend a lightly disparaged friend. Amory did defend Dorothy. "You really underrate her, Cosimo. Of course there's that dreadful job of hers, but she does know better really. I do hope she wasn't bored." "Well, you can't help Dorothy's shortcomings, Amory," Cosimo remarked, as if true artists had sorrows enough of their own without taking those of fashion-artists on their shoulders. "But I'm worried about her, Cosimo----" "Of course you are," Cosimo replied promptly. "That's what I always find so fine about you. The stronger _always_ worries about the weaker. It seems to be a Law----" "Do you think it is a Law?" Amory asked thoughtfully. "Well, _isn't_ it? Just look at it, now...."