Ten minutes past eight
Mr. Lawrence Faversham , barrister-at-law , was thirty-two years of age , and rather short , although he always held his head in the air as if he were doing his best to appear taller . Hearing the street door bell ring , Mrs. Lawrence Faversham waylaid Carrissima on the stairs and insisted on taking her to gaze at little Victor , aged two , peacefully sleeping in the nursery . `` Mark 's late as usual , '' exclaimed Lawrence , as his sister presently sailed into the drawing-room . `` Ten minutes past eight , '' he added , taking her hand . He had fair hair , a long narrow face and sloping shoulders . Whether he was sitting down or standing up , there always seemed to be something stiff , self-important and formal about him . `` Mark was n't due at King 's Cross until tea-time , '' said Phoebe , a pretty brunette , several inches taller than her husband and seven years younger .