Well, it _was_ a little bit like being in church, when you could see the
twilight come down very slow like this, and settle on the tree-tops and
then down through them towards you. You always felt as though it was
going to do something to you when it got to you; something peaceful,
like old Aunt Hetty.

She was at her own front path now, it was really almost dark. Mother was
playing the piano. But not for either of the boys. It was grown-up music
she was playing. Elly hesitated on the flagged stones. Maybe she was
playing for Mr. Marsh again. She advanced slowly. Yes, there he was,
sitting on the door-step, across the open door, leaning back his head,
smoking, sometimes looking out at the sunset, and sometimes looking in
towards the piano.

Elly made a wide circuit under the apple-trees, and went in the
side-door. Touclé was only just setting the table. Elly would have
plenty of time to get off her rubber boots, look up her old felt
slippers, and put them on before supper time. Gracious! Her stockings
were wet. She'd have to change them, too. She'd just stay upstairs till
Mr. Marsh went away. She didn't feel to talk to him.

* * * * *

When out of her window she saw him step back across the grass to Mr.
Welles' house, Elly came downstairs at once. The light in the
living-room made her blink, after all that outdoor twilight and the
indoor darkness of her room upstairs.

Mother was still at the piano, her hands on the keys, but not playing.