When just within the door she stopped and
looked at the body nervously.
'Emma!' she said. 'Why don't you come downstairs? Mrs. Lake'll let
us have her back room, and tea's waiting for you. I wonder how you
_can_ stay here.'
'I can't come. I want to be alone, Kate. Tell them not to come up.'
'But you can't stay here all night, child!'
'I can't talk. I want to be alone. Perhaps I'll come down before
long.'
Kate withdrew and went to gossip with the people who were
incessantly coming and going in the lower part of the house. The
opening and shutting. of the front door, the sound of voices, the
hurrying feet upon the staircase, were audible enough to Emma. She
heard, too, the crowds that kept passing along the street, their
shouts, their laughter, the voices of the policemen bidding them
move on. It was all a nightmare, from which she strove to awake.
At length she was able to weep. Gazing constantly at the dead face,
she linked it at last with some far-off memory of tenderness, and
that brought her tears. She held the cold hand against her heart and
eased herself with passionate sobbing, with low wails, with loving
utterance of his name. Thus it happened that she did not hear when
someone knocked lightly at the door and entered. A shadow across the
still features told her of another's presence.
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