She did not raise her eyes, but as Mr Verloc, silent, and with his hat
rammed down upon his forehead, made straight for the parlour door, she
said serenely:
"What a wretched day. You've been perhaps to see Stevie?"
"No! I haven't," said Mr Verloc softly, and slammed the glazed parlour
door behind him with unexpected energy.
For some time Mrs Verloc remained quiescent, with her work dropped in her
lap, before she put it away under the counter and got up to light the
gas. This done, she went into the parlour on her way to the kitchen. Mr
Verloc would want his tea presently. Confident of the power of her
charms, Winnie did not expect from her husband in the daily intercourse
of their married life a ceremonious amenity of address and courtliness of
manner; vain and antiquated forms at best, probably never very exactly
observed, discarded nowadays even in the highest spheres, and always
foreign to the standards of her class. She did not look for courtesies
from him. But he was a good husband, and she had a loyal respect for his
rights.
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