Andy wiped his damp forehead.
“You are sure it is quite extinguished?”
“Oh yes. The clothes were in soak, so I had water all handy. It seems as if it was meant. They’ll have to either take the partition away or build it up, new. So I shall get it taken away. Then I can have my sideboard back.”
Andy stared in a muddled sort of way, first at Mrs. Simpson and then at the house.
“Yes,” he said. “Oh yes.”
Mrs. Simpson’s face quickened to anxiety at last.
“Of course—if you don’t feel you can part with it——” she began.
“But of course I can. It’s yours,” said Andy eagerly. “I want you to have it.”
Mrs. Simpson heaved a sigh of relief.
“That’s all right,” she said. “Well, I think we may be going in now.” She glanced down at her toilet. “I just snatched up my widow’s mantle—I knew I should never get another.” Then something, strange in Andy’s attire did seem to strike her. “I expect you were on your way home from a party,” she said. She paused, considered the hour, and added: “A ball, I s’pose?”