“And where is her husband?”
“He is dead.”
“And where is your money?”
The poor girl flinched; there was something too consistent in my questions. “I don’t know,” she said wearily.
But I continued a moment. “On her husband’s death this lady came over here?”
“Yes, she arrived one day.”
“How long ago?”
“Two years.”
“She has been here ever since?”
“Every moment.”