“What was the matter with the first man?” Elsie began again.
“I don’t know whether it was the matter with him or with me. I didn’t trust him.”
“I should say that was the matter with him. And the next man?”
“Nothing. I simply couldn’t have lived with him.”
“And what’s wrong with Stephen is that he’s no more than very nice. I see.”
“Oh no, you don’t see, dear! There’s a lot more to it than all that, only I can’t explain it.” I fancied that she wheeled round in her chair and faced her companion. “The long and short of it is that I’ve never met the man with whom I could keep house. I can fall in love with them for a while—I can have them going and coming—I can welcome them and say good-by to them—but when it’s a question of all welcome and no good-by—well, the man’s got to be different from any I’ve seen yet.”
“You’ll end by not getting any one at all.”
“Which, from my point of view, don’t you see, won’t be an unmixed evil. Having lived happily for twenty-three years without a husband, I don’t see why I should throw away a perfectly good bone for the most enticing shadow that ever was.”
“I don’t believe you’re human.” Before there could be a retort to this Elsie went on to ask, “How did poor Stephen take it?”
“Well, he didn’t go into fits of laughter. He took it more or less lying down. If he hadn’t—”
“Oh, I don’t know. The least little bit of fight on his part—or even contempt—”
As this sentence remained unfinished I could hear Elsie rise.
“Well, I’m off to bed,” she yawned. “What time do you have breakfast?”
There was some little discussion of household arrangements, after which they said their good nights.
With Elsie’s departure I began for the first time to be uncomfortable. I can’t express myself otherwise than to say that as long as she was there I felt I had a chaperon. In spite of the fact that I had become a professional burglar the idea of being left alone with an innocent young lady in her bedroom filled me with dismay.
I was almost on the point of making a bolt for it when I heard Elsie call out from the hallway: “Ugh! How dark and poky! For mercy’s sake, come up with me!”
Miss Barry lingered at the dressing-table long enough to ask: “Wouldn’t you rather sleep in mother’s room? That communicates with this, with only a little passage in between. The bed is made up.”