Ackroyd and his brother-in-law smoked innumerable pipes by the kitchen fire.

Jim often nodded, but Luke was far from sleep; the sad still half-hour spent with the Grails had troubled his imagination, and thoughts of Thyrza had been revived in him.

Yes, he had loved Thyrza; all folly put aside, he knew that the memory of the sweet-voiced, golden-haired girl would for ever remain with him.

And all this night he did not once think of Totty Nancarrow.
Fortunately, as it was Saturday, they had no need to think of work next morning.

Jim would not go to bed; he kept up the most determined struggle with sleep, subduer of mortals.