“First, I wish to know something about yourself,” said Mrs. Carshaw, trying honestly to adopt a motherly tone. “Do you live here all alone? Where are your parents?”
“I have none—as far as I know. Yes, I live here alone, for the present.”
“But no relatives?”
“I have an aunt—a sort of aunt—but—”
“You are mysterious—‘a sort of aunt.’ And is this ‘sort of aunt’ with you here?”
“No. I used to live with her, but within the last month we have—separated.”
“Is that my son’s doings?”
“No—that is—no.”
“So you are quite alone?”