“Yes, Miss Moira.”
The fidgety excitement which seized the grey-haired woman was understandable on the ground of old memories being suddenly aroused. Moira’s voice expressed the tenderest sympathy.
“How sad. She would have been such a comfort to you now.”
“Yes. But that’s all so long ago, ma’am. It’s the way things happen in this world for some of us.”
“And your husband? Is he dead, too?”
The questioning was becoming more and more difficult for Ellen. When she answered it was with a touch of impatience.
“I don’t know. I don’t know where he is.”
“He deserted you?”
“Yes.”
Moira felt the need of some apology, induced by Ellen’s uneasiness, but the very fact that the information was unsatisfactory made her perversely eager to stay, although the little room oppressed her.