Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. ‘Nevertheless, you will marry me,’ he snarled. Then she put more coal on, piled it over the ashes, and stood once more upright. Here was an appalling fact: all her previous loneliness had been trifling beside that which now encompassed her and would for years to come. I’m a soldier, you see. “What were you doing outside Miss Pellissier’s flat to-night? You were looking at her windows. She sprang to her feet and stood listening with parted lips and eager eyes.
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