Then she slipped away.

Her fingers sought the wall once more and the place was flooded with light.
"You must come in here for a moment," she said, opening the nearest door.

"I shall not ask you to share my milk, and I am afraid I don't know where to get you a whisky and soda, but you can light a cigarette and just tell me how things are and when you are coming to see me." He followed her into a comfortable little apartment, furnished in mid-Victorian fashion, but with an easy-chair drawn up to the brightly burning fire.

On a table near was a glass of milk and some biscuits.
The ermine cloak slipped from her shoulders.

She stood with one foot upon the fender, half turned towards him.