She 's so alone." And Stephen's face clouded, as he reflected how very seldom the monotony of the invalid's life was broken now by a friendly visit from a neighbor.
"If they should turn out really social, neighborly people that we liked, we might move away the old side-board from before the hall door, and go in and out that way, as the Jacobses used to.

It would be unlucky though, I reckon, to use that door.

I guess I'll plaster it up some day." Like all people of deep sentiment, Stephen had in his nature a vein of something which bordered on superstition.
The twilight deepened into darkness, and a cold mist began to fall in slow, drizzling drops.

Still Stephen stood, absorbed in his reverie, and unmindful of the chill.
The hall door opened, and an old woman peered out.

She held a lamp in one hand; the blast of cold air made the flame flicker and flare, and, as she put up one hand to shade it, the light was thrown sharply across her features, making them stand out like the distorted features of a hideous mask.
"Steve! Steve!" she called, in a shrill voice.