It _is_ comfortable, and you get
lots of sunlight and--"
"I'll take--How much is it, please, with board?"
She spoke with a take-it-or-leave-it defiance. "Eleven-fifty a week."
It was a terrible extravagance; much like marrying a sick woman
on a salary of ten a week, he reflected; nine-teen minus
eleven-fifty left him only seven-fifty for clothes and savings
and things and--but--" I'll take it," he said, hastily. He
was frightened at himself, but glad, very glad. He was to live
in this heaven; he was going to be away from that Zapp woman;
and Nelly Croubel--Was she engaged to some man? he wondered.
Mrs. Arty was saying: "First, I want to ask you some questions,
though. Please sit down." As she creaked into one of the wicker
chairs she suddenly changed from the cigarette-rolling chaffing
card-player to a woman dignified, reserved, commanding. "Mr.
Wrenn, you see, Miss Proudfoot and Miss Croubel are on this
floor. Miss Proudfoot can take care of herself, all right, but
Nelly is such a trusting little thing--She's like my
daughter.
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