In some way she was employed on his behalf, and with this object she was alone.

It was now the middle of October, and the fire was lit in Mrs Dale's drawing-room.

The window which opened upon the lawn was closed, the heavy curtains had been put back in their places, and it had been acknowledged as an unwelcome fact that the last of the summer was over.

This was always a sorrow to Mrs Dale; but it is one of those sorrows which hardly admit of open expression.
"Bell," she said, looking up suddenly; "there's your uncle at the window.

Let him in." For now, since the putting up of the curtains, the window had been bolted as well as closed.