The morning came, and John was still awake. The few birds inhabiting Marlborough Mills were twitting and singing, as well as the first factory workers of the morning shift. He opened the window in search for fresh air, with no result. The air outside was thick and heavy, just like his own mind. He washed his face in the basin next to his bed, trying to wipe off all the restlessness of his face. He looked at the mirror, and saw a bitter face.
Margaret sat on her bed when Dixon opened her door to bring her breakfast. They had booked the earliest train to London, so preparations should be made. The kind servant served her a tray and left, knowing that she wanted to be left alone. Margaret looked at the food and could not eat, a knot at her stomach prevented her. She rushed for fresh air from the window, but there was no wind. She felt fainting and searched for her salts in the drawer. When she faced herself on the mirror, she saw a bitter face.