Summary

Portrait of Hugh Walpole Hugh Walpole The Red Book Magazine, Volume 39… (1922)

I drew the armchair in front of the fire nestled down into it, and before I knew, I was fast asleep. And when I awoke, it was with a sense of comfort and well-being which was nothing less than exquisite. I belonged to it, that room, as though I had been in it all my days. I had a curious sense of companionship that was exactly what I had been needing during these last weeks. The house seemed utterly still; no voices of children came to me—no sound anywhere, save the sharp crackle of the fire and the friendly ticking of the old clock.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Hugh Walpole Hugh Walpole The Red Book Magazine, Volume 39… (1922)

One connects with one's own grief the place where one feels it: and before many days had passed, I had grown to loathe the little village—to dread, beyond any words, the long, soughing groan of the sea as it drew back down the slanting beach, the melancholy cries of the seagulls, the chattering women under my little window. I couldn't stand it. I ought to go back to London, and yet from that too I shrank. Memories of Bond lingered there as they did in no other place, and it was hardly fair to my wife and family to give them the company of the dreary, discontented man that I just then was.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Hugh Walpole Hugh Walpole The Red Book Magazine, Volume 39… (1922)

There was no one there, of course, and yet I had just that consciousness of companionship that one has when some one whom one loves very dearly and knows very intimately is sitting with one in the same room. I even went to the other side of the four-poster and looked around me, pulled for a moment at the silver-colored curtains, and of course saw no one. Then the door suddenly opened and Jack Baldwin came in, and I remember having a curious feeling of irritation as though I had been interrupted.
Source: Wikisource

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