Jarber was beginning:
“Say, not old, Sophon—” but I looked at the candlestick, and he left off; pretending not to have said anything.
“I am infirm, of course,” I said, “and so are you. Let us both be thankful it’s no worse.”
“Is it possible that you look worried?” said Jarber.
“It is very possible. I have no doubt it is the fact.”
“And what has worried my Soph-, soft-hearted friend,” said Jarber.
“Something not easy, I suppose, to comprehend. I am worried to death by a House to Let, over the way.”
Jarber went with his little tip-toe step to the window-curtains, peeped out, and looked round at me.
“Yes,” said I, in answer: “that house.”
After peeping out again, Jarber came back to his chair with a tender air, and asked: “How does it worry you, S-arah?”