The two look at each other again. Mr. Guppy makes a hurried remark to the effect that they may be doing the deceased a service, that he hopes so. There is an oppressive blank until Mr. Weevle, by stirring the fire suddenly, makes Mr. Guppy start as if his heart had been stirred instead.
"Fah! Here's more of this hateful soot hanging about," says he. "Let us open the window a bit and get a mouthful of air. It's too close."
He raises the sash, and they both rest on the window-sill, half in and half out of the room. The neighbouring houses are too near to admit of their seeing any sky without craning their necks and looking up, but lights in frowsy windows here and there, and the rolling of distant carriages, and the new expression that there is of the stir of men, they find to be comfortable. Mr. Guppy, noiselessly tapping on the window-sill, resumes his whispering in quite a light-comedy tone.

Mr. Guppy remarks that they may be doing the deceased a service. There is an oppressive blank until Mr. Weevle stirs the fire suddenly, making Mr. Guppy start.
"Fah! Here's more of this hateful soot hanging about," says he. "Let us open the window and get a mouthful of air."
He raises the sash, and they both rest on the window-sill, half in and half out of the room. The neighbouring houses are too near to allow them to see any sky without craning their necks, but lights in windows here and there, and the rolling of distant carriages, are comforting. Mr. Guppy resumes his whispering.
