I read you out the accidents in Lloyd's--shocking, they were, and all brought about by the fog! And then, that horrid monster 'ull soon be at his work again--" "Monster ?" repeated Mrs.Bunting absently.
She was trying to hear the lodger's footsteps overhead.

She was very curious to know whether he had gone into his nice sitting-room, or straight upstairs, to that cold experiment-room, as he now always called it.
But her husband went on as if he had not heard her, and she gave up trying to listen to what was going on above.
"It wouldn't be very pleasant to run up against such a party as that in the fog, eh, Ellen ?" He spoke as if the notion had a certain pleasant thrill in it after all.
"What stuff you do talk!" said Mrs.Bunting sharply.

And then she got up.

Her husband's remarks had disturbed her.

Why couldn't they talk of something pleasant when they did have a quiet bit of time together?
Bunting looked down again at his paper, and she moved quietly about the room.