Their seat near the window was a rickety garden-bench rejected in the headlong sale of the furniture; and when she rose, unable to continue motionless while the hosts of illuminated cloud flew fast, she had to warn her brother to preserve his balance.

He tacitly did so, aware of the necessity.
She walked up and down the long seven-windowed saloon, haunted by her footfall, trying to think, chafing at his quietness and acknowledging that he did well to be quiet.

They had finished their packing of boxes and of wearing-apparel for the journey.

There was nothing to think of, nothing further to talk of, nothing for her to do save to sit and look, and deaden her throbs by counting them.

She soon returned to her seat beside her brother, with the marvel in her breast that the house she desired so much to love should be cold and repel her now it was a vacant shell.