“Whither away?” he said, very distinctly in a curiously wheedling voice. Directly dinner was over Mr. ’ *** In the cosy little parlour that Pottiswick rarely used, Melusine paced restlessly to and fro. “It’s a way of avoiding explanations. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there. He continued to do this for the rest of the evening intermittently, in and out, among other topics.
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