“This is Church property,” murmured Fanny.
“Yes ... this....” Mrs. Deemis flourished the dismal kitchen with its seeping walls, its crumbling plaster ceiling, its ooze rotted floor, into the eyes of Fanny.
“How can I live on Church property,” Fanny thought aloud.
“Why!... Mrs. Luve!” Mrs. Deemis doubted her ears. “What’d ye say? Beg pardon?”
“They’re rotten landlords?”
“Well now ... of course.... I dont say they’re no worse....”
“The Church takes the sun from my window, Mrs. Deemis. I love the sun.”
“Why you aint never there? You work. What do ye need the sun for?... Dont blame the Church for that, my dear. You must be fair. If ’twasnt the Church wouldn’t it be one of these here ... now ... factories or office-buildings?”
“—— taking the sun,” murmured Fanny and saw the once more ploughing arms of the old lady.
“You aint thinkin’ of leaving, Mrs. Luve? Cause ... that’s a fine room ... kin rent——“