She drove open the door of her room and stepped into its calm.

In order to speak to her, it was necessary that Richard should follow.

They stood in a whirlpool of wind; papers began flying round in circles, the door crashed to, and they tumbled, laughing, into chairs.

Richard sat upon Bach.
"My word! What a tempest!" he exclaimed.
"Fine, isn't it ?" said Rachel.

Certainly the struggle and wind had given her a decision she lacked; red was in her cheeks, and her hair was down.
"Oh, what fun!" he cried.