She made no movement to show it, however; she stood on the mat nursing her elbows.
"Can you let me see it—if it isn't inconvenient so early?"
"Oh, I suppose so," said the landlady. She preceded her to the top-floor, but with no alacrity. "This is it," she said.
It was a back attic of the regulation pattern: brown drugget, yellow chairs, and a bed of parti-coloured clothing. Nevertheless, it seemed to be clean, and Mary was prepared to take anything.
"What is the rent?" she asked wearily.
"Did you say your husband would be joining you?"
"My husband? No, I'm a widow."
There was a glance shot at her hand. She wore gloves, but saw that it would have been wiser to have told the truth and said "I am unmarried."
"As a single room, the rent is seven shillings. You'd be able to give me references, of course?"
"I'm afraid I couldn't do that," she said, not a little surprised. "I've only just arrived; my luggage is at the station."