THE SHADOWY THIRD
him and he had frequently said so. She used to come and meet him at the station—he came back by the 6.5 in those days, sometimes by the 6.43—and it had so greatly irritated him to watch her grimacing and screwing up her eyes at the carriages that he had slipped through the barrier behind her and pretended when she came home that he had not known she was there. Perhaps the little chap would have been short-sighted if he had lived. . . .
The maid came in to say that supper was ready, and they went into the dining-room. Here the curtains were undrawn and they could see the lights twinkling out in the windows of the other houses. He often felt as though those windows were watching him; their gaze was hostile, full of comment and criticism. The sound of the wind among the bushes in the garden was like whispered comparisons. He said they saw a good deal too much of the neighbours, and Pussy said she liked the friendly lights. "I wouldn't like to be shut in all round, but I couldn't live without any people. The next-doors have been so kind. She came in with some
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