'
He looked round for her. 'She's not here. I shan't do any harm, shall
I? We can whisper.'
'She wouldn't hear us anyhow. It's my room above this one.'
'Is it?' He gazed at the ceiling with interest. 'Oh, up there!'
'I should have thought you knew by instinct,' she said bitingly.
'No.'
'Come and sit down, Charles, and don't be disagreeable. I shall have
to go to Aunt Sophia soon, but then you will be able to talk to Aunt
Rose. That will do just as well.'
'Not quite,' he said. 'I really came to tell you--'
'You said you came because you thought I wanted you.'
'So I did, but there were several reasons. You said you were going to
be happy to-day, not murderous, do you remember? And I thought I'd
like to see how you looked. You don't look happy a bit. What's the
matter?'
'I've told you Aunt Sophia's ill. And would you be happy if you had to
sit in this prim room with two old women?'
'Two? But your Aunt Caroline is dead.'
'But my Aunt Rose is very much alive.'
He wagged his head. 'I see.'
'But she isn't lively. She sits like this--reading a book, and Aunt
Sophia, poor Aunt Sophia, sews like this, and I sit on this horrid
little stool, like this. That's how we spend the evening.'
'How would you like to spend it?'
'Oh, I don't know.' She dropped her black head to her knees. 'It's so
lonely.'
'Well,' he began again, 'I really came to tell you that there's a
house to let on The Green: that little one with the red roof like a
cap and windows that squint; a little old house; but--' he paused--'it
has every modern convenience.
Pages:
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323