Why not go down to Hurst Dormer to-night, and send off this letter to Marjorie from Town instead of posting it here? He could see to a few things in Hurst Dormer on the morrow, see Marjorie, arrange her little troubles and then be back here by Saturday; but as he was not sure of his movements he left it that he would wire Mrs. Bonner his probable time of returning.
“One thing, I’ll be able to have a good clear-up when he’s gone,” Mrs. Bonner thought. Forever her thoughts turned in the direction of soap and water. The temporary absence of anyone meant to Mrs. Bonner an opportunity for a good clean, and she had already started one that very evening when there came a tapping on her door.
“Now, whoever is that worriting this time of the night?” With sleeves rolled up over bare and plump arms she went to the door.
“Oh, good evening, Mrs. Bonner. I ’eard about you losing your lodger.”
Mrs. Bonner stared into the darkness.
“Oh, it’s you!” Judging by the expression of her voice, the visitor was not a favoured one.
“Yes, it’s me!”
“Well, what do you want, Alice Betts?”
“Oh, nothing. I thought I’d just call in friendly-like.”
“Very good of you, only I’m busy cleaning up.”