“When would you like to do this?”
“I am so busy just now that I am afraid I can spare no time until Monday afternoon. Would you go with me then?”
“Of course... My time is my own. We have no matinee, and I have nothing to do except in the evening.”
They had reached her home. It looked very dark and very uninviting. She shivered as she took her latchkey from the bag which she was carrying.
“Come in with me, please, while I light the gas,” she begged. “It looks so dreary, doesn’t it?”
“You ought to have some one with you,” he declared, “especially in a part like this.”
“Oh, I am not really afraid,” she answered. “I am only lonely.”
He stood in the passage while she felt for a box of matches and lit the gas jet. In the parlor there was a bowl of milk standing waiting for her, and some bread.
“Thank you so much,” she said. “Now I am going to make up the fire and read for a short time. I hope that you will enjoy your supper—well, moderately,” she added, with a little laugh.
“I can promise you,” he answered, “that I shall enjoy it no more than last night’s or to-morrow night’s.”