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Updated: May 1, 2025
The veins swelled in his temples. "Always that woman!" and as though in answer to her name he saw her pass the window and shake the latched door. "Let me in!" It was a peremptory demand. Symes threw the catch back hard. "Yes, Dr. Harpe, I'll let you in. I've business with you. For the first time in my life I want to see you." His tone was brutal. "Sit down!"
Their door leading out into the corridor was now securely latched, notwithstanding that Betty was not in the habit of locking it. "Betty," Polly asked after a few moments of silence, when the two friends were back again in bed with their arms clasped close about each other, "the closet there at the end of your room is it one where either you or your mother keep your clothes?"
That is the way in the labourer's cottage. Even where privacy is attempted for the sufferer's sake there is no refuge for the family from the evidence of suffering. The young people in one room may hardly avoid knowing and hearing where a man is dying, or a woman giving birth to a child, just the other side of a latched deal door.
Gingerly he tested the window of the dormer, working at it from the side so that his body would not be visible to anybody who happened to be watching from within. Apparently it was latched. He crept across the roof to the other dormer. It was a casement window, and at the touch of the hand it gave way. The heart of the cowpuncher beat fast with excitement.
Piers went forward, and greeted her without words, motioning her with his hand into the inner office; the outer door he latched. "So I have tracked you to your lair!" exclaimed the visitor, with a nervous laugh, as she sank in fatigue upon the chair he placed for her. "I looked for your name on the wall downstairs, forgetting that you are Moncharmont & Co."
The orchard gate was wide open, and as she passed through there came to Catherine Nagle the knowledge why Charles on his way back from the wood had not even latched it; he also, when passing through it, had been bearing a burden....
Cunningham would lash him with ridicule or be forced to shoot him. But his rage carried him as far as the wireless room. He could hear the smack of the spark, but that was all. He tried the door locked. He tried the shutters latched. Cunningham's man was either calling or answering somebody. Ten minutes inside that room and there would be another tale to tell.
I wonder I never thought of it before." It had been arranged that Denas was to open with Neil Gow's matchless song of "Caller Herrin'!" and her dress was of course that of an idealized Newhaven fisher-girl. Her short, many-coloured skirts, her trig latched shoon, her open throat, and beautiful bare arms lifted to the basket upon her head was a costume which suited her to admiration.
But the door resisted. Evidently it was latched from within. Twice he made the trial, noiselessly as possible, and then paused to consider. This was something new. Miss Wallen had locked herself in, or possibly had locked him out.
At last the miller said, 'Well, really, Bob, I'm hungry; we must begin without her. They were about to go in, when David appeared with haste in his motions, his eyes wider vertically than crosswise, and his cheeks nearly all gone. 'Maister, I've been to call her; and as 'a didn't speak I rapped, and as 'a didn't answer I kicked, and not being latched the door opened, and she's gone!
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