a
visitor at the end of a call. She advanced towards her husband, one arm
extended as if for a silent leave-taking. Her net veil dangling down by
one end on the left side of her face gave an air of disorderly formality
to her restrained movements. But when she arrived as far as the
hearthrug, Mr Verloc was no longer standing there. He had moved off in
the direction of the sofa, without raising his eyes to watch the effect
of his tirade. He was tired, resigned in a truly marital spirit. But he
felt hurt in the tender spot of his secret weakness. If she would go on
sulking in that dreadful overcharged silence--why then she must. She was
a master in that domestic art. Mr Verloc flung himself heavily upon the
sofa, disregarding as usual the fate of his hat, which, as if accustomed
to take care of itself, made for a safe shelter under the table.

He was tired. The last particle of his nervous force had been expended
in the wonders and agonies of this day full of surprising failures coming
at the end of a harassing month of scheming and insomnia. He was tired.
A man isn't made of stone. Hang everything! Mr Verloc reposed
characteristically, clad in his outdoor garments. One side of his open
overcoat was lying partly on the ground. Mr Verloc wallowed on his back.
But he longed for a more perfect rest--for sleep--for a few hours of
delicious forgetfulness. That would come later. Provisionally he
rested. And he thought: "I wish she would give over this damned
nonsense. It's exasperating."

There must have been something imperfect in Mrs Verloc's sentiment of
regained freedom. Instead of taking the way of the door she leaned back,
with her shoulders against the tablet of the mantelpiece, as a wayfarer
rests against a fence. A tinge of wildness in her aspect was derived
from the black veil hanging like a rag against her cheek, and from the
fixity of her black gaze where the light of the room was absorbed and
lost without the trace of a single gleam. This woman, capable of a
bargain the mere suspicion of which would have been infinitely shocking
to Mr Verloc's idea of love, remained irresolute, as if scrupulously
aware of something wanting on her part for the formal closing of the
transaction.

On the sofa Mr Verloc wriggled his shoulders into perfect comfort, and
from the fulness of his heart emitted a wish which was certainly as pious
as anything likely to come from such a source.

"I wish to goodness,"