“Mrs. Pettiland,” said he, “at last I have found my true vocation.”
“I’m glad to hear it, sir,” she replied undisturbed in her official duties which consisted in taking the coppers from a small child in payment for two stamps. “You’ve been rather restless these last few days.”
Triona watched the child depart, clasping the stamps in a clammy hand.
“When one hasn’t a penny in the world and starvation stares you in the face, one may be excused for busy search for a means of livelihood.”
“You’ve got plenty of money.”
“I haven’t.”
“You paid me a month’s board and lodging in advance, the other day—though why you did it, I can’t understand.”
“I was going to run away,” he said cheerfully. “To compensate you in that miserable manner for inconvenience was the least I could do. But the gods rightly stepped in and hauled me back.” He swung himself on the counter and smiled at her. “I’m a fraud, you know.”
The plump and decorous lady could not realize his earnestness. Behind his words lay some jest which she could not fathom.
“You don’t believe me?”