From the basement came faint sounds of laughter.

Her landlord and lady were entertaining guests.

If they had not been, she would have found some excuse for running down and talking to them, if only for a few minutes.
Suddenly the vision of old Chelsea Church rose up before her with its little motherly old pew-opener.

She had so often been meaning to go and see her again, but something had always interfered.

She hunted through her drawers and found a comparatively sober-coloured shawl, and tucked it under her cloak.