“Come and sit down, Charles, and don’t be disagreeable. I shall have to go to Aunt Sophia soon, but then you will be able to talk to Aunt Rose. That will do just as well.” “Not quite,” he said. “I really came to tell you—” “You said you came because you thought I wanted you.” “So I did, but there were several reasons. You said you were going to be happy to-day, not murderous, do you remember? And I thought I’d like to see how you looked. You don’t look happy a bit. What’s the matter?” “I’ve told you Aunt Sophia’s ill. And would you be happy if you had to sit in this prim room with two old women?” “Two? But your Aunt Caroline is dead.” “But my Aunt Rose is very much alive.” He wagged his head. “I see.” “But she isn’t lively. She sits like this—reading a book, and Aunt Sophia, poor Aunt Sophia, sews like this, and I sit on this horrid little stool, like this. That’s how we spend the evening.” “How would you like to spend it?” “Oh, I don’t know.” She dropped her black head to her knees. “It’s so lonely.” “Well,” he began again, “I really came to tell you that there’s a house to let on The Green: that little one with the red roof like a cap and windows that squint; a little old house; but—” he paused—“it has every modern convenience. Henrietta, there’s a curl at the back of your neck.” “I know. It’s always there.” “I can’t go on about the house unless you sit up.” “Why?” “Because of that curl.” “And I’m not interested in the house.” She did not move. “Whose is it?” “It belongs to a client of ours, but that doesn’t matter. The point is that it’s to let. I’ve got an order to view. Look!—‘_Please admit Mr. Charles Batty._’ I went this evening and we can both go to-morrow. It’s really a very cosy little house. There’s a drawing-room opening on the garden at the back, with plenty of room for a grand piano, and the dining-room—I liked the dining-room very much. There was a fire in it.” “Is that unusual?” “It looked so cosy, with a red carpet and everything.” “Is the carpet to let, too?” “I don’t know. I dare say we could buy it. And mind you, Henrietta, the kitchen is on the ground floor. That’s unusual, if you like, in an old house. I made sure of that before I went any further.” “How far are you going?” “We’ll go everywhere to-morrow, even into the coal cellar. To-day I just peeped.” “I can imagine you. But what do you want a house for, Charles?” “For you,” he said. “You say you don’t like spending the evenings here—well, let’s spend them in the little house. We can’t go on being engaged indefinitely.” “Certainly not,” she said firmly, “and I should adore a little house of my own. I believe that’s just what I want.” “Then that’s settled.” “But not with you, Charles.”