He was surprised by a faint longing for her presence, and, with a word to Chook, he slipped away.
The cottage was in darkness and the door locked; but after a moment's hesitation, he took the key from under the flowerpot and went in.

He struck a match and looked round.

The irons were on the table.

Mrs Yabsley had evidently gone out with the shirts.

He lit the candle and sat down.
The room was thick with shadows, that fled and advanced as the candle flickered in the draught.