It was darkened, but sounded crowded.
Opening the door, Sisson found himself in the stone passage.

Old Bob, carrying three cans, stopped to see who had entered--then went on into the public bar on the left.

The bar itself was a sort of little window-sill on the right: the pub was a small one.

In this window-opening stood the landlady, drawing and serving to her husband.
Behind the bar was a tiny parlour or den, the landlady's preserve.
"Oh, it's you," she said, bobbing down to look at the newcomer.

None entered her bar-parlour unless invited.
"Come in," said the landlady.