s a furtive grin of cunning--it seems as
though it were born with her, and is perhaps more a misfortune than a
fault--comes in and says please she wants to tidy up.

So you get up and take your hat and go out again to look for a place to
rest in--to try not to think.

You _wish_ you could get away up-country. You also wish you were dead.

The landlady, Mrs Jones, is a widow, or grass-widow, Welsh, of course,
and clannish; flat face, watery grey eyes, shallow, selfish, ignorant,
and a hypocrite unconsciously--by instinct.

But the worst of it is that Mrs Jones takes advantage of the situation
to corner you in the passage when you want to get out, or when you come
in tired, and talk. It amounts to about this: She has been fourteen
years in this street, taking in boarders; everybody knows her; everybody
knows Mrs Jones; her poor husband died six years ago (God rest his
soul); she finds it hard to get a living these times; work, work,
morning, noon, and night (talk, talk, talk, more likely). "Do you know
Mr Duff of the Labour Bureau?" He has known her family for years; a very
nice gentleman--a very nice gentleman indeed; he often stops at the gate
to have a yarn with her on his way to the office (he must be hard up
for a yarn). She doesn't know hardly nobody in this street; she never
gossips; it takes her all her time to get a living; she can't be
bothered with neighbours; it's always best to keep to yourself and keep
neighbours at a distance. Would you believe it, Mr Careless, she has
been two years in this house and hasn't said above a dozen words to the
woman next door; she'd just know her by sight if she saw her; as for the
other woman she wouldn't know her from a crow. Mr Blank and Mrs Blank
could tell you the same.... She always had gentlemen staying with her;
she never had no cause to complain of one of them except once; they
always treated her fair and honest. Here follows story about the
exception; he, I gathered, was a journalist, and she could never depend
on him. He seemed, from her statements, to have been decidedly erratic
in his movements, mode of life and choice of climes. He evidently caused
her a great deal of trouble and anxiety, and I felt a kind of sneaking
sympathy for his memory. One young fellow stayed with her five years;
he was, etc. She couldn't be hard on any young fellow that gets out of
work; of course if he can't get it he can't pay; she can't get blood out
of a stone; she couldn't turn h