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. “What he had was altogether insufficient. “You are late,” she murmured. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. It seemed to him that a sort of mist had risen up between them. With delicate touch he rescued all that was possible of them, and made a careful little parcel.
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