He groped his way with infinite care to the door,
on the wall adjoining which, he presumed, the electric-light switch
would be.
It was nearly ten years since he had last been inside Windles, and it
never occurred to him that in this progressive age even a woman like
his aunt Adeline, of whom he could believe almost anything, would still
be using candles and oil-lamps as a means of illumination. His only
doubt was whether the switch was where it was in most houses, near the
door.
It is odd to reflect that, as his searching fingers touched the knob, a
delicious feeling of relief came to Samuel Marlowe. This misguided
young man actually felt at that moment that his troubles were over. He
positively smiled as he placed a thumb on the knob and shoved.
He shoved strongly and sharply, and instantaneously there leaped at him
out of the darkness a blare of music which appeared to his disordered
mind quite solid. It seemed to wrap itself round him. It was all over
the place. In a single instant the world had become one vast bellow of
Tosti's "Goodbye.
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