The sounds, muffled, were broken at moments by a subdued chorus of men's voices.
Traill crossed the room to the door that opened into his bedroom; unlatched it, held it wide.

Sally watched his face with half-expectant eyes.
"There's a yard at the back," he said; "my bedroom looks on to it.
Excuse me a second." He disappeared.

She heard him throw up the window, when the sounds increased in volume.

Now she could distinguish individual voices--voices taut, strained to a pitch of excitement.
Then Traill's voice, with a strange, stirring voice of vitality keyed in it.
"Sally--here!" It was not thinkingly said.

That there had been no thought, no premeditation, was the fact that stirred her most.