There was a gentle knocking at the door. It made her flesh creep. The knock came again. It went shrieking through and through her.
“Kirry,” whispered a voice from without.
She did not stir.
“It's only Pete.”
She neither spoke nor moved.
There was silence for a moment, and then, half nervously, half jovially, half in laughter, half with emotion as if the heart outside was palpitating, the voice came again, “I'm coming in, darling!”