She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern. ‘Don’t, miss,’ uttered the boy. She could not risk going in the door, lest she run into Larry or Cathy drinking a nocturnal glass of milk or Mike raiding the refrigerator for snacks. “Will you come in, Sir John. Felix. Let me go my own way towards them. For a long time she surveyed a row of towering holly-hocks, as though they offered an explanation. Stanley, in his effort to seem at ease, took entire possession of the hearthrug. There is the election——” He laughed derisively. The manager stared at the empty doorway for a space, shrugged, and returned to his ledgers. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave.
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