He was disturbed by the tornadic entrance of Emmy.
"She's not here!" she exclaimed tragically.

Her baby face was white and there were dark shadows under the eyes which stared at him with a touch of madness.

"She's not here!" "Perhaps she has gone out for a walk," Septimus suggested, as if London serving-maids were in the habit of taking the air at eight o'clock on a foggy morning.
But Emmy heard him not.

The dismaying sense of utter loneliness smote her down.

It was the last straw.