Book Two The Woman - Chapter 5 In Which I Hear Ill News of George

The sun was pouring in at my lattice when I awoke next morning to
a general soreness of body that at first puzzled me to account
for. But as I lay in that delicious state between sleeping and
waking, I became aware of a faint, sweet perfume; and, turning my
head, espied a handkerchief upon the pillow beside me. And
immediately I came to my elbow, with my eyes directed to the
door, for now indeed I remembered all, and beyond that door,
sleeping or waking, lay a woman.

In the early morning things are apt to lose something of the
glamour that was theirs over night; thus I remained propped upon
my elbow, gazing apprehensively at the door, and with my ears on
the stretch, hearkening for any movement from the room beyond
that should tell me she was up. But I heard only the early
chorus of the birds and the gurgle of the brook, swollen with
last night's rain. In a while I rose and began to dress somewhat
awkwardly, on account of my thumb, yet with rather more than my
usual care, stopping occasionally to hear if she was yet astir.
Being at last fully dressed, I sat down to wait until I should
hear her footstep. But I listened vainly, for minute after
minute elapsed until, rising at length, I knocked softly. And
having knocked thrice, each time louder than before, without
effect, I lifted the latch and opened the door.