"Yes, and I've got to go to work and iron again till eleven o'clock, and it's awful hot in that kitchen. I don't mind the washing so much in summer; I wash out here. But it's hot ironing. Are you in a hurry?"
I said no, and sat on. "How much rent do you pay?" I asked.
"Seven dollars."
"Three rooms?"
"Yes."
"One over the other?"
"Yes. It's an awful rent, and he won't fix anything. The door is half off its hinges, and the paper is a sight."
"Have you lived here long?"
"Over three years. We moved here before he got sick.