If she had--"
"Well, what?"
"I'm afraid that he wouldn't have exacted as much from her as he
did. She's one of those women--"
"Don't hesitate, Mrs. Yardley."
"I'm thinking how to put it. Who has her will of your sex, I might
say. Now I'm not."
"Pretty?"
"Not like a girl, sir. She's old enough to show fade; but I don't
believe that a man would mind that. She has a look--a way, that
even women feel. You may judge, sir, if we, old stagers at the
business, have been willing to take her in and keep her, at any
price,--a woman who won't show her face except to me, and who will
not leave her room without her veil and then only for walks in
places where no one else wants to go,--she must have some queer
sort of charm to overcome all scruples. But she's gone too far to-
day. She shall leave the Inn to-morrow. I promise you that, sir,
whatever Samuel says. But sit down; sit down; you look tired,
judge. Is there anything you would like? Shall I call Samuel?"
"No. I'm not much used to walking. Besides, I have had a great
loss to-day. My man, Bela--" Then with his former abruptness:
"Have you no idea who this Mrs. Averill is, or why she broke into
my house?"
"There's but one explanation, sir. I've been thinking about it
ever since I got wind of where she took my Peggy. The woman is not
responsible. She has some sort of mania. Why else should she go
into a strange gate just because she saw it open?"
"She hasn't confided in you?"
"No, sir.
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