 about all that? You aren't ever hungry.«
    She cast a swift glance at the boy, like a young man, by her side. She saw
him amiable, attractive, affectionate, and only a little, a very little
peculiar. And she could not see him otherwise, for he was connected with what
there was of the salt of passion in her tasteless life - the passion of
indignation, of courage, of pity, and even of self-sacrifice. She did not add:
»And you aren't likely ever to be as long as I live.« But she might very well
have done so, since she had taken effectual steps to that end. Mr. Verloc was a
very good husband. It was her honest impression that nobody could help liking
the boy. She cried out suddenly:
    »Quick, Stevie. Stop that green 'bus.«
    And Stevie, tremulous and important with his sister Winnie on his arm, flung
up the other high above his head at the approaching 'bus, with complete success.
    An hour afterwards Mr. Verloc raised his eyes from a newspaper he was
reading, or at any rate looking at, behind the counter, and in the expiring
clatter of the door-bell beheld Winnie, his wife, enter and cross the shop on
her way upstairs, followed by Stevie, his brother-in-law. The sight of his wife
was agreeable to Mr. Verloc. It was his idiosyncrasy. The figure of his
brother-in-law remained imperceptible to him because of the morose
thoughtfulness that lately had fallen like a veil between Mr. Verloc and the
appearances of the world of senses. He looked after his wife fixedly, without a
word, as though she had been a phantom. His voice for home use was husky and
placid, but now it was heard not at all. It was not heard at supper, to which he
was called by his wife in the usual brief manner: Adolf. He sat down to consume
it without conviction, wearing his hat pushed far back on his head. It was not
devotion to an outdoor life, but the frequentation of foreign cafés which was
responsible for that habit, investing with a character of unceremonious
impermanency Mr. Verloc's steady fidelity to his own fireside. Twice at the
clatter of the cracked bell he arose without a word, disappeared into the shop,
and came back silently. During these absences Mrs. Verloc, becoming acutely
aware of the vacant place at her right hand, missed her mother very much, and
stared stonily; while Stevie
