The dog sighed with discomfort on the mat. The ash-clogged fire sank.

“We are a couple of battered warriors,” said Connie.

“Are you battered too?” he laughed. “And here we are returning to the fray!”

“Yes! I feel really frightened.”

“Ay!”

He got up, and put her shoes to dry, and wiped his own and set them near the fire. In the morning he would grease them. He poked the ash of pasteboard as much as possible out of the fire. “Even burnt, it’s filthy,” he said. Then he brought sticks and put them on the hob for the morning. Then he went out a while with the dog.

When he came back, Connie said:

“I want to go out too, for a minute.”