They were all glad when it was over.
Phoebe, hearing a whimper from the child, went upstairs.

The two others were soon in hushed but earnest conversation.
Miss Anna had gone to bed.

Fenwick was sitting with a book before him--lost in anxious and exciting calculations--when Phoebe entered the room.
'Is that you ?' he said, jumping up.

'That's all right.

I wanted to talk to you.' 'I thought you did,' she said, with a very quiet, drooping air; then going to the window, which was open, she leaned out into the May night.