He looked at Stephen over the bedclothes as he spoke. All were waiting: uncle Charles, who sat far away in the shadow of the window, Dante and Mr Casey, who sat in the easy-chairs at either side of the hearth, Stephen, seated on a chair between them, his feet resting on the toasted boss. Are you not weary of ardent ways, Lure of the fallen seraphim? Tell no more of enchanted days. Well, even as it was, I perhaps might help! "Do you know you've never said a word to me about your school-- I mean the old one; never mentioned it in any way?" He seemed to wonder; he smiled with the same loveliness.