"I'm sure it's nice," said Mr. Wriford. His voice, that he had tried to strengthen for this interview, for some ridiculous reason trembled as he spoke. The reason lay somewhere in the woman's motherly face and in her happy gleaming. He felt himself stupidly affected just as he had been affected--recurrence of the sensation brought the scenes before his eyes--by the last appeal to him of the oldest sea-captain living, and by the kindly action of the woman in the coffee-shop who had given him a piece of bread early that morning. "I'm sure it's nice," he said again, repeating the words to correct the stupid break in his voice. "Would you tell me the price?" "Won't you sit down?" said the woman. "You do look that tired!" He murmured some kind of thanks and dropped into a chair that stood by the counter. She looked at him very compassionately before she answered his question. "Tiring work looking for lodgings," she said. He nodded--very faint, very wretched, very vexed with himself at that stupid swelling from his heart to his throat that forbade him speech. "Would you be living in?" he was asked. "I think I should be out all day." "Jus' breakfast and supper? That's the usual, of course, isn't it? And full Sundays. That would be twelve shillings." Twelve shillings was to be his wage from Mr. Pennyquick. He could not spend it all. "I couldn't pay it," said Mr. Wriford and caught at the counter to assist himself to rise. "Well, I am sorry, I'm sure," said the woman, and she added: "Hadn't you better rest a little?" His difficulty in rising warned him that if he did get up he might be unable to stand. "I will, just a moment," he told her, "if you don't mind. It's very kind of you. I've had rather a long day." She had said she was sorry, and she stood looking at him as though she were genuinely grieved and more than a little disturbed in mind. "How much could you pay?" she asked. "I could pay ten." "And when might you want to begin?" "Now." "Would it be for long?" "I can't say. I don't think it would." She said briskly, as though her obvious disturbance of mind had dictated a sudden course, "Look here, jus' wait a minute, will you?" and went into the parlour, closing the door behind her. Murmur of voices. "You know," she said, coming back to him, "if it was likely to be regular perhaps we could arrange ten shillings. But not knowing, you see, that's awkward. We like our lodger more to be one of us like. We don't want the jus' come and go sort. That's how it stands, you see. You couldn't say, I suppose?" "It's very kind of you," said Mr. Wriford. "I'm afraid I can't. I'll tell you. I'm engaged with Mr. Pennyquick at Tower House School--" "Oh, Mr. Pennyquick!" "You know him, I expect?" "Oh, I know Mr. Pennyquick," said the woman, and seemed to have some meaning in her tone. "Well, it's only for a week, or by the week. I can't say how long."