Adventure, December 1914 — page 120: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Irs moments without either speaking. Then in distinctly tremulous tones she asked: . “What—what do you want? What name, please?”’ Obviously he had to make an effort before he was able to answer her at all. When, as it were, he had pulled himself together, he still seemed to be at a loss—as if he had not — quite followed her meaning. He stammered almost more than she had done. “T’ve—I’ve come to see the apartments.” ‘“‘Apartments!”’ She started, as if the word were one which she had never heard before. She gave a sort of little gasp. “Oh!” Then, after a moment’s hesita- tion, she added: “I’m—I’m afraid we haven’t any to let.” “But there’s a card in the window. It says ‘Apartments’ on the card.” “Does it? I—Id forgotten there was a card in the window.” ‘“‘Are the rooms already let?” “No, they’re not let-—only—— She stopped, as if unable or unwilling to finish her sentence. “Only whate” He seemed to be regaining the presence of mind which in such odd fashion he had so suddenly lost. As she seemed to be seeking in vain for words with which to reply, he went on— “Tf the rooms are not let, if you don’t mind I should like to see them.”’ As he made a forward movement she fell back. He entered the house. She still was silent. ‘‘Which are the rooms?” ‘““These—these are the rooms.” She opened a door on her left, which he passed through. He looked about him. “T suppose this is the sitting-room?”’ “Yes, that’s the sitting-room. The bed- room is above; but—I don’t think we ought to let the rooms.” “May I ask why—if they are unoccupied? Do you mean that they’re promised?” ““‘No, they’re not promised. I should like very much to let them; only I don’t think I ought.” “I’m afraid I don’t quite follow you.” He had recovered himself sufficiently to smile at her. “May I ask what is the rent you want?” ; ‘“‘We thought of asking three guineas a week. You see, they’re good rooms and 9 Adventure well furnished; and there’s a bathroom, and no extras.” ‘Three guineas a week will suit me very well. They are, I think, just the sort of rooms I want. By what name ought I to address you?”’ “My namer”’ Again an odd look came into her eyes. She seemed to shiver. ‘My name is—is Dennis, Winifred Dennis.”’ ‘“‘And mine, Miss Dennis, is Adair—Mar- tin Adair. When would it be convenient to you for me to enter into occupation?” “Occupation? Do you mean, when could you come?” “As regards a reference I shall be happy to refer you to my solicitor, Mr. Edward Foster, of Gray’s Inn Buildings. But after all, the best form of guarantee of a lodger’s stability is his willingness to pay cash. “You say three guineas a week. [I shall be happy, Miss Dennis, if you will allow me, to pay a month’s rent in advance. Per- haps you will permit me to enter into my tenancy tomorrow. If that is satisfactory to you, here are twelve guineas.” “Twelve guineas!’ The girl’s breath seemed to come more quickly as she re- peated the words. She watched him taking out the money with wide-open eyes. ‘“‘If you were to give me twelve guineas < Pausing, she seemed to change the shape of her sentence. “Tf you give me twelve guineas you can have the rooms,” she said. The matter was settled, in a fashion which on both sides was informal and un- business-like, and he departed with the un- derstanding that on the morrow he should return to the Dovecote—which was the name painted on the garden-gate—with his luggage, and enter into possession of his rooms. He said nothing about the time of day he proposed for his return, nor whether he would be there for lunch, or for dinner; he said nothing about meals or food; and the girl did not inquire. The conscious- ness of these omissions began to force itself upon him as he walked back to Putney station. “T seem to have made a pretty mess of the business; upon my word I do. Consid- ering her unwillingness to let the rooms I couldn’t have been more confiding. When I get back tomorrow I may find her gone, with my twelve guineas; I have nothing whatever to show that she ever had them. phe mayn’t be the person entitled to receive cComicloool (©