"Nobody does, if he don't himself," said Mrs. Nettley with a shake of her head. "He don't give that pleasure to any other living person."
"Not when you are at home?"
"It makes no difference, Miss Haye," said Mrs. Nettley going on with her sewing. "He never will. He never did."
"But surely he boards somewhere, don't he? He don't live entirely by himself in that room?"
"That's what he always used," said Mrs. Nettley; "he does take his dinners somewhere now, I believe. But nothing else. He makes his own tea and breakfast, — that is! — for he don't drink anything. If it was any one else, one would be apt to say one would grow unsociable, living in such a way; but it don't make any change in him, no more than in the sun, what sort of a place he lives in."
Elizabeth stood for a minute very still; and then said gently,
"Mrs. Nettley, I mustn't let you stay here with me."
"Why not, Miss Haye? — I am sure they don't want me. I can just as well stay as not. I am very glad to stay."
"You are wanted more there than here. I must learn to get along alone. — It don't matter how soon I begin."
"Dear Miss Haye, not yet. Never mind now — we'll talk about it by and by," said Mrs. Nettley hurriedly and somewhat anxiously. She was a little afraid of Elizabeth.