By some odd instinct she felt that it was the solitary forge of the young inventor, and pictured him standing before it with his abstracted hazel eyes and a face more begrimed in the moonlight than ever.

When DID he wash himself?
Perhaps not until Sunday.

How lonely it must be out there! She slightly shivered and turned from the window.
As she did so, it seemed to her that something knocked against her door from without.

Opening it quickly, she was almost certain that the sound of a rustling skirt retreated along the passage.

It was very late; perhaps she had disturbed the house by shutting her window.