Sarah, shaken and faint, and longing to sit down, yet hesitated as if afraid to step inside. It seemed to her, as she paused, that there was some ordeal in front of her which she could not face. Her heart beat and her throat was dry, and though she longed to go in, she was unable to stir. The man inside saw her against a background of misty yard, a white face and homely figure dressed in threadbare black. Once or twice his gaze left her to dwell on Simon, but it was always to the more dramatic figure that it returned. There was a current in the passage, full and sweeping like the wind that went before the still, small Voice of God. Sarah was caught by it, urged forward, filled with it with each breath. But even as she lifted her foot she heard a woman’s voice in the room beyond. "We’ve Mrs. Will here an’ all," the landlady called, as she swam away. "She’ll see to you if there’s anything you want, I’m sure." She might just as well have slammed and locked the door in the old folks’ teeth. At once they made a simultaneous movement of recoil, stiffening themselves as if against attack. The spirit in the passage died down, leaving it filled to the ceiling with that heavy, chattering voice. Sarah was well away from the doorstep before she opened her mouth. "Nay, I don’t know as I won’t go right on, thank ye, Mrs. Bond. I’m feeling a deal better already,--I am that. If I set down, I’ll likely not feel like getting up again, and I’ve a deal to see to in t’town." Mrs. Bond swam back, concerned and surprised, but Sarah was already well across the yard. Simon, when appealed to, said nothing but, "Nay, I reckon she’ll do," and seemed equally bent upon getting himself away. They retreated hurriedly through the arch that led to the street, leaving Mrs. Bond to say, "Well, I never, now!" to the empty air. The man’s face came back to the window as they went, looking after this sudden retirement with a troubled frown.