He grew soft for his sister, while, as he proudly imagined, iron for himself.
He crept in under the blanket carefully so as not to disturb her.
He was too tired and excited to read.

He would think the hour out.
So he lay staring at the opposite wall of rock, at its crevices, and creeping ants, at the odd lights and shadows thrown by the lantern, straining his eyes every now and then, that he might be the more sure how wide awake they were.
Louie stretched herself.

What was the matter?
Where was she?
What was that smell?
She leant forward on her elbow.

The lantern was just going out, and smelt intolerably.

A cold grey light was in the little den.