Anything that disturbed her routine she resented, surly as an animal.
"Let me know when he comes in," she said. "I'll speak to him. Keepin us up to all hours and disturbin dad's rest while he carries on. Might be a disorderly house."
She left the room.
Alf turned out the gas, and sat in the darkness, watching the dying fire, and waiting for his mouse.
A crisis in his life had come.
He was about to take the first big step along the road that was going to lead him to success or ruin.
He was aware of it, and calm as a practised gambler.
Once he rose and locked the front door to make sure his brother could not enter without his knowledge.
It was eleven o'clock when he heard feet outside.
Those feet told their own tale.