ous and important with his sister Winnie on his arm,
flung up the other high above his head at the approaching 'bus, with
complete success.

An hour afterwards Mr Verloc raised his eyes from a newspaper he was
reading, or at any rate looking at, behind the counter, and in the
expiring clatter of the door-bell beheld Winnie, his wife, enter and
cross the shop on her way upstairs, followed by Stevie, his
brother-in-law. The sight of his wife was agreeable to Mr Verloc. It
was his idiosyncrasy. The figure of his brother-in-law remained
imperceptible to him because of the morose thoughtfulness that lately had
fallen like a veil between Mr Verloc and the appearances of the world of
senses. He looked after his wife fixedly, without a word, as though she
had been a phantom. His voice for home use was husky and placid, but now
it was heard not at all. It was not heard at supper, to which he was
called by his wife in the usual brief manner: "Adolf." He sat down to
consume it without conviction, wearing his hat pushed far back on his
head. It was not devotion to an outdoor life, but the frequentation of
foreign cafes which was responsible for that habit, investing with a
character of unceremonious impermanency Mr Verloc's steady fidelity to
his own fireside. Twice at the clatter of the cracked bell he arose
without a word, disappeared into the shop, and came back silently.
During these absences Mrs Verloc, becoming acutely aware of the vacant
place at her right hand, missed her mother very much, and stared stonily;
while Stevie, from the same reason, kept on shuffling his feet, as though
the floor under the table were uncomfortably hot. When Mr Verloc
returned to sit in his place, like the very embodiment of silence, the
character of Mrs Verloc's stare underwent a subtle change, and Stevie
ceased to fidget with his feet, because of his great and awed regard for
his sister's husband. He directed at him glances of respectful
compassion. Mr Verloc was sorry. His sister Winnie had impressed upon
him (in the omnibus) that Mr Verloc would be found at home in a state of
sorrow, and must not be worried. His father's anger, the irritability of
gentlemen lodgers, and Mr Verloc's predisposition to immoderate grief,
had been the main sanctions of Stevie's self-restraint. Of these
sentiments, all easily provoked, but not always easy to understand, the
last had the greatest moral efficiency--because Mr Verloc was _good_.
His mot