The light was fading fast, and as she sat at the open window the remembrance of Mr.Tredgold's conduct helped to mar one of the most perfect evenings she had ever known.
Downstairs the captain was also thinking.

Dialstone Lane was in shadow, and already one or two lamps were lit behind drawn blinds.

A little chatter of voices at the end of the lane floated in at the open window, mellowed by distance.

His pipe was out, and he rose to search in the gloom for a match, when another murmur of voices reached his ears from the kitchen.

He stood still and listened intently.