“Why didn’t you go?”
“He died dear.”
“Oh I see.”
“It could go under your bed, out of the way.”
“I’ve got hat-boxes and things. My room is full of things I’m afraid.”
“P’raps your landlady would let it stand somewhere.”
“I might ask her—won’t they let you leave things here?”
“They would I daresay,” frowned Miss Dear “but I have special reasons. I don’t wish to be beholden to the people here.” She patted the tendrils of her hair, looking about the cubicle with cold disapproval.
“I daresay Mrs. Bailey wouldn’t mind. But I hardly like to ask her you know. There seems to be luggage piled up everywhere.”
“Of course I should be prepared to pay a fee.”