Downstairs, a door slammed sharply.
"Damn the wind!" exclaimed Thalassa peevishly.

"There's no keeping it out.
I'm going downstairs to lock up now.

You'll have your supper up here, I suppose ?" "Yes.

I have a lot of work to do before I go to bed." Thalassa left the room without further speech, and Robert Turold began rummaging among his papers with a hand which trembled slightly.

The table was littered with parchments, old books, and some sheets of newly written foolscap.