Miriam knew that he had not written.

Like him, she knew that an end of some sort must soon come.

And the end came an hour later.
Some day, Barebone knew, Dormer Colville would arrive.

Every morning he half looked for him on the seawall, between "The Black Sailor" and the rectory garden.

Any evening, he was well aware, the smiling face might greet him in the lamp-lit drawing-room.
Sep had gone to bed earlier that night.