“Did he talk?”
“Yes, lots. He came in while I was eating my lunch.... Came bursting in the moment I opened the door. And he said he’d lost everything—he said ‘Heaven had mocked him’.... Then he said, ‘Rosaleen, I’m going to kill myself, and I must have you near me when I die,’ and he took a knife out of his pocket.... Oh!...”
She gripped Miss Waters’ hand violently, struggling against a sort of convulsion of sickness and terror.
“Oh! No, no, no! Don’t comfort me, or anything.... I’ve got to brace up.... If I let go ... one minute ... I’ll scream!”
Miss Waters felt that if Rosaleen screamed, she would go mad. With trembling hands she took off her jacket and hat, and laid them on a chair.
“Shall we give him some brandy?”
“I haven’t any.”
“I’ll run out and get some.”
Rosaleen blanched at the thought of waiting alone with her sinister guest, but she gallantly agreed. And Miss Waters put on her things again and went, with weak knees and pounding heart, down the stairs to the street. She didn’t know where to get brandy; she stood irresolutely outside the house for a moment; then she hurried to the Fine Feathers’ shop and approached the elder partner, Miss Sillon.
“I want some brandy for a sick person!” she whispered. “Have you any?”