"I say, Mrs. J."--a compromise between the two names and serving for both--"I want a lodging. Couldn't you let me come here?"
She looked up briskly. "What kind of a lodging? I mean as to position and price."
"Oh, something comfortable," said Roland.
Perhaps for old acquaintance' sake, perhaps because she had some apartments vacant, Mrs. Jones appeared to regard the proposition with no disfavour; and began to talk of her house's accommodation.
"The rooms on the first floor are very good and well furnished," she said. "When I was about it, Mr. Yorke, I thought I might as well have things nice as not, one finds the return; and the drawing-room floor naturally gets served the best. There's a piano in the front room, and the bed in the back room is excellent."
"They'd be just the thing for me," cried Roland, rising to walk about in pleasurable excitement. "What's the rent?"
"They are let for a pound a week. Mr.----"
"That'll do I can pay it," said he eagerly. "I don't play the piano myself; but it may be useful if I give a party. You'll cook for me?"
"Of course we'll cook," said Mrs. Jones. "But I was about to tell you that those rooms are let to a clergyman. If you----"
Roland had come to an abrupt anchor at the edge of the table, and the look of blank dismay on his face was such as to cut short Mrs. Jones's speech. "What's the matter?" she asked.