"No; Alf—of the Garridges. Him they call All-for-isself Alfie!"
Ruth caught her breath.
"Thank you," she said, and closed the door swiftly.
The youth was left titupping on the door-step, his nose against the panel like a seeking spaniel.
Within, Ruth put her hand to her heart to stay its tumult. She was thankful Ernie was not there to witness her emotion, for she felt like a rabbit in the burrow, the stoat hard on its heels. All her old terrors revived....
The new landlord soon paid his first visit, and Ruth was ready for him.
"You want to see round?" she asked, with the almost aggressive briskness of the woman who feels herself threatened.
"Yes, as your landlord I got the right of entry." He made the announcement portentously like an emperor dictating terms to a conquered people.
Ruth showed him dutifully round. He paid no attention to his property: his eyes were all for her; she did not look at him.
Then they went upstairs where it was dark.