She let herself in with her latchkey and showed him into the drawing-room, turning on the electric light as he entered.
"I'll go and wake Edith," she said.

"Then we can have some breakfast.

The fire's laid.

Do you mind putting a match to it ?" She disappeared and Septimus knelt down before the grate and lit the paper.
In a second or two the flame caught the wood, and, the blower being down, it blazed fiercely.

He spread his ice-cold hands out before it, incurious of the futile little room whose draperies and fripperies and inconsiderable flimsiness of furniture proclaimed its owner, intent only on the elemental need of warmth.