The prospect was as black as the window-pane against which he was leaning his forehead.

And suddenly the face of Mr Vladimir, clean-shaved and witty, appeared enhaloed in the glow of its rosy complexion like a sort of pink seal, impressed on the fatal darkness.
This luminous and mutilated vision was so ghastly physically that Mr Verloc started away from the window, letting down the venetian blind with a great rattle.

Discomposed and speechless with the apprehension of more such visions, he beheld his wife re-enter the room and get into bed in a calm business-like manner which made him feel hopelessly lonely in the world.

Mrs Verloc expressed her surprise at seeing him up yet.
"I don't feel very well," he muttered, passing his hands over his moist brow.
"Giddiness ?" "Yes.

Not at all well." Mrs Verloc, with all the placidity of an experienced wife, expressed a confident opinion as to the cause, and suggested the usual remedies; but her husband, rooted in the middle of the room, shook his lowered head sadly.
"You'll catch cold standing there," she observed.
Mr Verloc made an effort, finished undressing, and got into bed.