erloc,
overcame him again. The piece of roast beef, laid out in the likeness of
funereal baked meats for Stevie's obsequies, offered itself largely to
his notice. And Mr Verloc again partook. He partook ravenously, without
restraint and decency, cutting thick slices with the sharp carving knife,
and swallowing them without bread. In the course of that refection it
occurred to Mr Verloc that he was not hearing his wife move about the
bedroom as he should have done. The thought of finding her perhaps
sitting on the bed in the dark not only cut Mr Verloc's appetite, but
also took from him the inclination to follow her upstairs just yet.
Laying down the carving knife, Mr Verloc listened with careworn
attention.

He was comforted by hearing her move at last. She walked suddenly across
the room, and threw the window up. After a period of stillness up there,
during which he figured her to himself with her head out, he heard the
sash being lowered slowly. Then she made a few steps, and sat down.
Every resonance of his house was familiar to Mr Verloc, who was
thoroughly domesticated. When next he heard his wife's footsteps
overhead he knew, as well as if he had seen her doing it, that she had
been putting on her walking shoes. Mr Verloc wriggled his shoulders
slightly at this ominous symptom, and moving away from the table, stood
with his back to the fireplace, his head on one side, and gnawing
perplexedly at the tips of his fingers. He kept track of her movements
by the sound. She walked here and there violently, with abrupt
stoppages, now before the chest of drawers, then in front of the
wardrobe. An immense load of weariness, the harvest of a day of shocks
and surprises, weighed Mr Verloc's energies to the ground.

He did not raise his eyes till he heard his wife descending the stairs.
It was as he had guessed. She was dressed for going out.

Mrs Verloc was a free woman. She had thrown open the window of the
bedroom either with the intention of screaming Murder! Help! or of
throwing herself out. For she did not exactly know what use to make of
her freedom. Her personality seemed to have been torn into two pieces,
whose mental operations did not adjust themselves very well to each
other. The street, silent and deserted from end to end, repelled her by
taking sides with that man who was so certain of his impunity. She was
afraid to shout lest no one should come. Obviously no one would come.
Her instinct