There he sat, dressed, with his chin on his knees, staring out of the window at the far hill, with its few lights.

He neither thought nor slept, but sat perfectly still, staring.

And when at last he was so cold that he came to himself, he found his watch had stopped at half-past two.

It was after three o'clock.

He was exhausted, but still there was the torment of knowing it was only Sunday morning.