Snowdon and he were accustomed to smoke their pipes whilst conversing, but this evening Sidney dispensed with tobacco.
It was very quiet here.

On the floor below dwelt at present two sisters who kept themselves alive (it is quite inaccurate to use any other phrase in such instances) by doing all manner of skilful needlework; they were middle-aged women, gentle-natured, and so thoroughly subdued to the hopelessness of their lot that scarcely ever could even their footfall be heard as they went up and down stairs; their voices were always sunk to a soft murmur.

Just now no infant wailing came from the Byasses' regions.

Kirkwood enjoyed a sense of restfulness, intenser, perhaps, for the momentary disappointment he had encountered.

He had no desire to talk; enough for a few minutes to sit and watch Jane's hand as it moved backwards and forwards with the needle.
'I went to see Pennyloaf as I came back from work,' Jane said at length, just looking up.
'Did you?
Do things seem to be any better ?' 'Not much, I'm afraid.