It seemed, in spite of its open door, a very silent little house behind its strip of garden. Joan had the feeling that it was listening.
Suddenly she heard a light step in the passage, and the room door opened. A girl entered. She was wearing a large black hat and a black boa round her neck. Between them her face shone unnaturally white. She carried a small cloth bag. She started, on seeing Joan, and seemed about to retreat.
“Oh, please don’t go,” cried Joan. “Mrs. Stopperton has just gone round to the doctor’s. She won’t be long. I’m a friend of hers.”
The girl took stock of her and, apparently reassured, closed the door behind her.
“What’s he like to-night?” she asked, with a jerk of her head in the direction of the next room. She placed her bag carefully upon the sofa, and examined the new shawl as she did so.
“Well, I gather he’s a little fretful,” answered Joan with a smile.
“That’s a bad sign,” said the girl. “Means he’s feeling better.” She seated herself on the sofa and fingered the shawl. “Did you give it her?” she asked.
“Yes,” admitted Joan. “I rather fancied her in it.”
“She’ll only pawn it,” said the girl, “to buy him grapes and port wine.”
“I felt a bit afraid of her,” laughed Joan, “so I made her promise not to part with it. Is he really very ill, her husband?”