The streets had now become very quiet; he felt a doubt as to the possibility of knocking at a house door.

But Polly had said he was to do so, be the hour what it might.

The front of the house was dark, not a glimmer in any windows.

Doubtfully he drew near and knocked thrice.
Minutes passed, nearly five, in fact, then he knocked again.

He would wait five minutes more, and then-- But the door softly opened.
"That you ?" said Polly's voice.
"Yes, it is." She opened the door wide, and he saw by the light from the street that she was dressed as usual.
"How late you are! Well?
Can't you speak ?" "I'm dead beat, that's the truth," he replied, leaning against the door-post.