Gas burned low in the hall globes; when he turned it off a fainter light from above guided them.
"Celia, is that you ?" she called gently, "Hush; go to bed, Honey-bell.

Everybody is asleep.

How pale you are, Curt--dearest--dearest----" The rear room was Ailsa's; she walked into it and dropped down on the bed in the darkness.

The door between the rooms closed: she sat perfectly still, her eyes were wide open, staring in front of her.
Queer little luminous shapes danced through obscurity like the names from the kerosene torches around the bulletin; her ears still vibrated with the hoarse alarm of the voices; through her brain sounded her brother-in-law's words about Steve, repeated incessantly, stupidly.
Presently she began to undress by sense of touch.

The gas in the bathroom was lighted; she completed her ablutions, turned it off, and felt her way back to the bed.
Lying there she became aware of sounds from the front room.