"I hope, sir, that you are not going?"
"Then you hope wrong, Mrs. Barnes. I certainly am going, and that at once."
"You mustn't sir--you really mustn't."
"You are wrong again, Mrs. Barnes, for I really must, if on one account only--that I am not in a position to pay your terms."
She gave a sudden movement forward, coming to lean with both her hands upon the table. Her voice dropped to that odd, palpitating whisper of which she seemed to be so fond.
"You needn't let that trouble you. You can live board and lodging free, and you'll be welcome."
I observed her closely. In her face there was something which was positively uncanny. If ever a person had a haunted look it was Mrs. Barnes.
"Why do you make to me such a proposition? Do you consider that I am the sort of person who would be willing to snatch at anybody's charity, or are you in the habit of giving strangers board and lodging free?"
"Indeed, no; but it's different with you. If you leave me now I shall not dare to stay in the house, and that's the truth. I feel as if you were guarding me; as if hungry eyes were on the house, seeking for a chance to work me evil, but that the hidden watchers dare not come in to do that to me which they desire while my roof still shelters you. Sir, do you think that 'he' did it?"
"Do I think that who did what?"