The weather was too bad, and the shop was cosier than the streets.

Sitting behind the counter with some sewing, she did not raise her eyes from her work when Mr Verloc entered in the aggressive clatter of the bell.

She had recognised his step on the pavement outside.
She did not raise her eyes, but as Mr Verloc, silent, and with his hat rammed down upon his forehead, made straight for the parlour door, she said serenely: "What a wretched day.

You've been perhaps to see Stevie ?" "No! I haven't," said Mr Verloc softly, and slammed the glazed parlour door behind him with unexpected energy.
For some time Mrs Verloc remained quiescent, with her work dropped in her lap, before she put it away under the counter and got up to light the gas.

This done, she went into the parlour on her way to the kitchen.