“My fault, I think,” said Richard.
And with another glance at the great dark eyes following him, he backed into the passage—this time upon Sam, who had carried in the portmanteau.
“If you wouldn’t mind, sir,” said Sam—“our back room here’s on’y a kitchen; but we lets our parlour, as you see. There,” he said, leading the way, “that’s my cheer, sir; and the wife ’ll come and talk to you dreckly, I dessay. I must go back on to the rank.”
“One moment,” said Richard.
“There, sir, I don’t want paying for a bit of a job like this,” said Sam. “Oh, well, if you will pay, I shall put that down to the lodgers’ nex’ ride.”
“They are your lodgers, then?”
“Yes, sir; and it all come out of that old Ratty when I knocked Mrs Lane over.”
“But the young lady?”
“Thanky, sir, for calling her so; that’s just what she is.”
“Is she an invalid?”