“I only go to the house about once a fortnight—Oh, it’s not my fault. She won’t have me there oftener.”
“What do you mean? I beg your pardon. Perhaps I’ve touched on a painful—?”
“Not at all, not at all,” said I suavely. “It is very natural. I am neither young nor handsome, Mrs. Wiggins. I am not complaining.”
The matron gazed at me.
“Only seeing her here,” I pursued, “you have no idea of what she is at home. She has chosen to forbid me to come to her house—”
“Her house?”
“It happens to be more hers than mine,” I explained. “To forbid me, I say, more than once to come to her house. No doubt she had her reasons.”
“Nothing could justify it,” said the matron, directing a wondering glance at Mrs. Hilary.
“Do not let us blame her,” said I. “It is just an unfortunate accident. She is not as fond of me as I could wish, Mrs. Wiggins; and she is a great deal fonder than I could wish of—”
I broke off. Mrs. Hilary was walking toward us. I think she was pleased to see me getting on so well with the matron, for she was smiling pleasantly. The matron wore a bewildered expression.