At the back of the house some one was rattling cans.

He approached the front; the light on the terrace showed him that the sitting-rooms were on that side.

He stood as near the light as he could by the corner of the house, the leaves of a creeper brushing his face.

After a moment he could hear a voice.

The voice went on steadily; it was not talking, but from the continuity of the sound it was a voice reading aloud.