He was gone.
Keziah started, as if the slam of the door had been an electric shock.
During the interview she had been pale and grave but outwardly calm.

Now she sank wearily down in the chair from which she had risen and her head dropped forward upon her arms on the table.

The letter she had been reading before Captain Nat's arrival fell from her waist to the floor and lay there, its badly spelled and blotted lines showing black and fateful against the white paper.

And she cried, tears of utter loneliness and despair.
The clouds thickened as the afternoon passed.

The setting sun was hidden behind them; over the horizon of ocean and bay the fog banks were rolling in tumbled, crumpled masses.