Filippino Lippi paintings

Still snowing?" he said doubtfully. "How very, very quiet and still London is when under snow, Mrs. Bunting. I have never known it quite as quiet as this morning. Not a sound, outside or in. A very pleasant change from the shouting which sometimes goes on in the Marylebone Road."
"Yes," she said dully. "It's awful quiet to-day - too quiet to my thinking. 'Tain't natural-like."
The outside gate swung to, making a noisy clatter in the still air.
"Is that someone coming in here?" asked Mr. Sleuth, drawing a quick, hissing breath. "Perhaps you will oblige me by going to the window and telling me who it is, Mrs. Bunting?"
And his landlady obeyed him.
"It's only Bunting, sir - Bunting and his daughter."
"Oh! Is that all?"
Mr. Sleuth hurried after her, and she shrank back a little. She had never been quite so near to the lodger before, save on that first day when she had been showing him her rooms.