Jean hesitated for the breadth of a second. "Well, we may need another," she said, and left it nameless.
The door opened and a man came out. If he saw them, they meant nothing to him—a pair of lovers by the wayside; there were many such.
He paced back and forth on the gravel walk. They could hear the crunch of it under his feet. They saw the shining tip of his cigar—smelt its fragrance—.
Again the door opened, to frame a woman. She called and her voice was young.
"Dearest, it is late. Are you coming in?"
His young voice answered. His far-flung cigar-end trailed across the darkness, his eager steps gave quick response—the door was shut—.
"Oh, Derry, I'd call you like that—-"
"And I should come."
The light went out on the lower floor, and presently in a room above a window was illumined.
THE SIXTH DAY