His eye glanced through the window.

Far down the road to the harbour a roof detained his gaze: out of it rose a red chimney, and out of the red chimney a curl of smoke, as from a fire newly kindled.

He had often seen such a sight before.

In that house lived Lucy Savile; and the smoke was from the fire which was regularly lighted at this time to make her tea.
After that he went back to the bedroom, and stood there some time regarding his wife's silent form.

She was a woman some years older than himself, but had not by any means overpassed the maturity of good looks and vigour.