She turned the key and opened the door.
The darkness was intense, seeming to touch her pupils like a substance.
She only now became aware how heavy the rainfall had been and was; the dripping of the eaves splashed like a fountain.

She stood listening with parted lips, and holding the door in one hand, till her eyes, growing accustomed to the obscurity, discerned the wild brandishing of their boughs by the adjoining trees.

At last she cried loudly with an effort, "Giles! you may come in!" There was no immediate answer to her cry, and overpowered by her own temerity, Grace retreated quickly, shut the door, and stood looking on the floor.

But it was not for long.

She again lifted the latch, and with far more determination than at first.
"Giles, Giles!" she cried, with the full strength of her voice, and without any of the shamefacedness that had characterized her first cry.
"Oh, come in--come in! Where are you?
I have been wicked.