Then she went into her room and shut the door.

Marcella waited outside, leaning against the old oak gallery which ran round the hall, her candle the one spot of light and life in the great dark house.
"He seems to have slept well," said Mrs.Boyce, reappearing, and speaking under her breath.

"He has not taken the opiate I left for him, so he cannot have been in pain.

Good-night." Marcella kissed her and went.

Somehow, in her depression of nerve and will, she was loth to go away by herself.