Mrs. Tenssen finished her cup of tea before replying.
"No, she is not," she at length answered. "Nor is she likely to be. Neither now nor later—not to-day and not to-morrow."
"What's he asking?" inquired Mrs. Armstrong in her deep bass voice.
"Whether Christina's in."
Both the women laughed. It seemed to them an excellent joke.
"Perhaps you will be kind enough to give her a message from me," Henry said, suddenly involved in the strange miasma of horrid smell and hateful sound that seemed to be forever floating in that room.
"Perhaps I will not," said Mrs. Tenssen, suddenly getting up from her chair and facing him. "Now you've been hanging around here just about enough, and it will please you to take yourself off once and for all or I'll see that somebody makes you." She turned round to Mrs. Armstrong. "It's perfectly disgusting what I've had to put up with from him. You'll recollect that first day he broke in here through the window just like any common thief. It's my belief it was thieving he was after then and it's been thieving he's been after ever since. Damned little squab.
"Always sniffing round Christina and Christina fairly loathes the sight of him. Why, it was only yesterday she said to me: 'Well, thank God, mother, it's some weeks since we saw that young fool, bothering the life out of me,' she said. Why, it isn't decent."
"It is not," said Mrs. Armstrong, blowing on her tea. "I should have the police in if he's any more of a nuisance."