She knocked louder and listened.

A door slammed violently at the back of the house, a distant clatter of what sounded like saucepans came from beyond, and above it all a tremulous but harsh voice bellowed industriously through an interminable chant.

By the time the third verse was reached Mr.
Wilks's neighbours on both sides were beating madly upon their walls and blood-curdling threats strained through the plaster.
She stayed no longer, but regaining her own door sat down again to await the return of her son.

Mr.Silk was long in coming, and she tried in vain to occupy herself with various small jobs as she speculated in vain on the meaning of the events of the night.

She got up and stood by the open door, and as she waited the clock in the church-tower, which rose over the roofs hard by, slowly boomed out the hour of eleven.