XVIII went so far, in the evening, as to make a beginning. Theweather had changed back, a great wind was abroad, and beneath thelamp, in my room, with Flora at peace beside me, I sat for a longtime before a blank sheet of paper and listened to the lash of therain and the batter of the gusts. Finally I went out, taking acandle; I crossed the passage and listened a minute atMiles’s door. What, under my endless obsession,I had beenimpelled to listen for was some betrayal of his not being at rest,and I presently caught one, but not in the form I had expected. Hisvoice tinkled out. “I say, you there—come in.” Itwas a gaiety in the gloom!
I went in with my light and found him, in bed, very wide awake,but very much at his ease. “Well, what are YOU up to?”he asked with a grace of sociability in w
