“You have a—quiet little place here,” he said to her to make conversation. He had been going to say “a charming, little place,” but a glance round the dark, musty-smelling room was too much for his powers of unveracity.
“Yes, it’s almost too quiet, while Jack is away. Don’t you think, Mr. West, I’m very good to stay here by myself all day long? ”
She had the oddest voice, very drawling, measured, inanimate. It said nothing at all to the listener beyond the mere actual words.
“Come, you’ve got baby,” said Catterson, laughing, “let alone Mrs. Baker.”
“As though one’s landlady and a baby of seventeen months were all the companionship one could require! ” She laughed too.
She was almost pretty when she laughed, and West began to perceive that after all she might be no older than Catterson
