“’Ere y’are, mum,” he said.
Miss Mason got out, paid the man, crossed the gravel plot, and mounted the steps. Her heart was beating uncomfortably fast.
“Is Mrs. Merton at home?” she asked of Emma, who opened the door.
“Yes’m. Will you come inside’m?” She showed Miss Mason into the dismal little parlour. “What name shall I say, ’m?”
“Mrs. Merton won’t know my name,” said Miss Mason desperately. “But ask her if she will speak to me for a few moments.”
Emma left the room breathing heavily as she moved, and Miss Mason sat very upright on the little sofa, her hands still clutching the black satin bag. Her eyes took in the whole room. She saw the dingy and torn tablecloth, the rather dirty chintz covers to the chairs, and the distinctly dirty muslin curtains to the windows. A mantel-border which covered the chimney-piece had come unnailed at one side, and was hanging in an untidy festoon. The carpet was faded, and crumbs scattered from the last meal were below one of the chairs. There was a large Japanese fan in the fender before the empty grate; its edges were broken and torn. It was also considerably fly-marked. Miss Mason could understand Jasper’s feelings very well. She saw what the place must mean to a man of his fastidious instincts. It might be that he was largely to blame that it had ever reached such a state, but having reached it it was almost unavoidable that he should shrink from it.
A step on the stairs made her start. She clutched more tightly at the bag and began murmuring “unwarrantable intrusion,” “mutual interest,” in a spasmodic fashion, her eyes fixed on the door.
Suddenly it opened, and a woman in a rather soiled white dress came into the room. She made Miss Mason think of a faded lily.
The woman looked with something like amazement at the odd figure in the mushroom hat, grey dress, and wide white linen collar, seated on the sofa clutching a black satin bag.
Miss Mason got to her feet. “My dear,” she began, but the rest of the sentence was lost. “I’m downright nervous,” said Miss Mason, with one of her gruff little laughs, “and you’ll think me an interfering old fool, but I was bound to come.”