Then, with a quaint transition of thought, he remembered the little counting-house in Tooley Street, the smell of cheeses, and Mr.
Weatherley's half-nervous invitation.

His lips twitched and he began to smile.

These things seemed to belong to a world so far away.
Presently he heard footsteps outside and voices.

The door was opened but the person outside did not immediately enter.

Apparently she had turned round to listen to the man who was still some distance behind.