She was always waiting for him, however late the hour of his return.

She was always in his arms the moment the dripping overcoat was removed.

Sometimes he brought work back with him, and wrestled with regimental accounts and other details far into the night.
It was not his work, but someone had to do it, and it had devolved upon him.
Puck never would go to bed without him.

It was too lonely, she said; she was afraid of snakes, or rats, or bogies.

She used to curl up on the _charpoy_ in his room, clad in the airiest of wrappers, and doze the time away till he was ready.
One night she actually fell into a sound sleep thus, and he, finishing his work, sat on and on, watching her, loath to disturb her.