“And,” continued the woman, “while he is not here, I will have some talk with you.”
“Right,” said Mr. Scanlon.
“In this house I have been since spring,” said Mrs. Kretz. “Was it in April, Lena?”
“It was in April,” agreed Lena.
“Since spring,” said Mrs. Kretz. “And I am afraid.”
The interest in Mr. Scanlon’s eyes deepened.
“Of what?” he asked.
But the woman gazed at him with an expression even more wooden than her daughter.
“I don’t know.” She laid the knitting on the hearth beside her and folded her hands in her lap. “My husband knows. But my husband never speaks of things to me. He does not trust women,” simply. “But I am afraid. And Lena is afraid.”
Mr. Scanlon leaned forward.