“Pray, what IS your sort?”
“You.”
She laughed softly. “You're a goose, Joe!”
She settled herself more comfortably on the doorstep and drew along breath.
“How tired I am! Oh—I haven't told you. We've taken a roomer!”
“A what?”
“A roomer.” She was half apologetic. The Street did not approve of roomers. “It will help with the rent. It's my doing, really. Mother is scandalized.”
“A woman?”
“A man.”
“What sort of man?”