"Something's going to turn up here; something ails Mr. Morgeson."
I guess his ailment.
"He is going to fail, he is smashed all to nothing. He knows what will be said about him, yet he goes about with perfect calmness. But he feels it. I tried him this morning, I gave him tea instead of coffee, and he didn't know it!"
"Margaret's gone?"
"There must be rumors; for she asked him for her wages a day or two ago. He paid her, and said she had better go."
I examined my hands involuntarily. She tittered.
"How easily you will wash the long-necked glasses and pitchers, with your slim hand!"
I dropped into a mental calculation, respecting the cost of an entire change of wardrobe suitable to our reduced circumstances, and speculated on a neat cottage-style of cookery.
"I think I must go, too," she said with cunning eyes.
"How can you bear to, when there will be so much trouble for you to enjoy?"