"Keeping a boarding-house isn't my line. But what could I do? My
sister-in-law had it, and I was with her. And when she died...
Besides, I dare say I can keep a boarding-house as well as plenty of
other people. But--well, it's no use going into that!"
Edwin abruptly sat down near her.
"Come, now," he said less harshly, more persuasively. "How much do you
owe?"
"Oh!" she cried, pouting, and shifting her feet. "It's out of the
question! They've distrained for seventy-five pounds."
"I don't care if they've distrained for seven hundred and seventy-five
pounds!" She seemed just like a girl to him again now, in spite of her
face and her figure. "If that was cleared off, you could carry on,
couldn't you? This is just the season. Could you get a servant in, in
time for these three sisters?"
"I could get a charwoman, anyhow," she said unwillingly.
"Well, do you owe anything else?"
"There'll be the expenses."
"Of the distraint?"
"Yes."
"That's nothing. I shall lend you a hundred pounds. It just happens
that I've got fifty pounds on me in notes. That and a cheque'll settle
the bailiff person, and the rest of the hundred I'll send you by post.
It'll be a bit of working capital."
She rose and threaded between chairs and tables to the sofa, several
feet from Edwin. With a vanquished and weary sigh, she threw herself on
to the sofa.
"I never knew there was anybody like you in the world," she breathed,
flicking away some fluff from her breast. She seemed to be regarding
him, not as a benefactor, but as a natural curiosity.
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