Twenty-two NOCTURNAL ADVENTURES OF CHARLES

Charles was not looking forward with any relish¹ to the prospect² of hisnight’s vigil. He privately³ considered that it was likely to be a wild goosechase. Emily, he considered, was possessed⁴ of a too vivid imagination.
He was convinced that she had read into the few words she had over-heard a meaning that had its origin in her own brain. Probably sheerweariness had induced Mrs. Willett to yearn⁵ for night to come.
Charles looked out of his window and shivered. It was a piercingly coldnight, raw and foggy—the last night one would wish to spend in the openhanging about and waiting for something, very nebulous in nature, tohappen.
Still he dared not yield to his intense desire to remain comfortably in-doors. He recalled the liquid melodiousness⁶ of Emily’s voice as she said,“It’s wonderful to have someone you can really rely on.”
She relied on him, Charles, and she should not rely in vain. What? Failthat beautiful, helpless girl? Never.
Besides, he reflected as he donned all the spare underclothes he pos-sessed before encasing himself in two pullovers and his overcoat, thingswere likely to be deucedly unpleasant if Emily on her return found outthat he had not carried out his promise.
She would probably say the most unpleasant things. No, he couldn’t riskit. But as for anything happening—
And anyway, when and how was it going to happen? He couldn’t beeverywhere at once. Probably whatever was going to happen would hap-pen inside Sittaford House and he would never know a thing about it.
“Just like a girl,” he grumbled⁷ to himself, “waltzing off to Exeter andleaving me to do the dirty work.”
And then he remembered once more the liquid tones of Emily’s voice asshe expressed her reliance on him, and he felt ashamed of his outburst.
He completed his toilet, rather after the model of Tweedledee, and effec-ted a surreptitious exit from the cottage.

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