It was the first moment of peace that he had known since that hour in St.Martin's Chapel.
He was quiet, collected, perfectly calm.

He went over to the window, opened it, and rejoiced in the breeze.

The room seemed suddenly empty.
Five minutes ago it had been crowded, breathless.

There was now only Bunning.
"It was so awfully hot with that enormous fire," he said.
Bunning's condition was peculiar.

He sat, his large fat face white and streaky, beads of perspiration on his forehead, his hands gripping the sides of the armchair.