She walked here and there violently, with abrupt stoppages, now before the chest of drawers, then in front of the wardrobe.

An immense load of weariness, the harvest of a day of shocks and surprises, weighed Mr Verloc's energies to the ground.
He did not raise his eyes till he heard his wife descending the stairs.
It was as he had guessed.

She was dressed for going out.
Mrs Verloc was a free woman.

She had thrown open the window of the bedroom either with the intention of screaming Murder! Help! or of throwing herself out.

For she did not exactly know what use to make of her freedom.