His efforts at escape afterwards were so pitiful that Burton eventually let him out of the window, from which he disappeared, running at full tilt towards a confectioner's shop.
Presently Ellen returned.

It was exceedingly manifest that her temporary absence had not been wholly due to the exigencies of her domestic occupation.

Her skirt was unpinned, a mauve bow adorned her throat, a scarf of some gauzy material, also mauve, floated around her neck.

She was wearing a hat with a wing, which he was guiltily conscious of having once admired, and which she attempted, in an airy but exceedingly unconvincing fashion, to explain.
"Got to go up the street directly," she said, jerkily.

"What is it ?" Burton had made up his mind that the fewer words he employed, the better.
"Ellen," he began, "you have perhaps noticed a certain change in me during the last few weeks ?" Ellen's bosom began to heave and her eyes to flash.