"I didn't expect it of you, Mr. Kitely," she said, and burst into tears.
This quite upset the conspirators. But Mr. Kitely kept them back as they were hurrying forward.
"We thought we could do a little better for you, you see, ma'am. It was a confined place this for the likes of you. So Miss Lucy and I made bold to move your things up to a place in the court where you'll have more room."
She said nothing but went up stairs. In both rooms she found utter emptiness. Mr. Kitely followed her.
"There's not a stick left, you see, ma'am. Come and I'll take you home."
"I didn't think you'd have turned me out in my old age, Mr. Kitely. But I suppose I must go."
It was with considerable exercise of self-denial that the bookseller refrained from telling her the truth, but he could not spoil the young people's sport. He led her up to the door of her own house.
"No, Mr. Kitely. I'll never set foot in that place again. I won't accept it from no one—not even rent-free."
"But it's your own," said Kitely, almost despairing of persuasion, and carried beyond his intent.
"That's just why I won't go in. It is mine, I know, but I won't have my own in charity."