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Updated: June 9, 2025
We we have a roomer now. He is very much interested. I should like to tell him." He dropped her hands and looked at her in mock severity. "Much interested! Is he in love with you?" "Mercy, no!" "I don't believe it. I'm jealous. You know, I've always been more than half in love with you myself!"
A gay, festive illumination streamed out of the opened doorway and Mrs. Balmer paid a social call. She found her roomer sitting in a chair, reading. Around him blazed four large kerosene lamps. But there was nothing else to notice. His eyes were probably bad, and Mrs. Balmer, after exchanging a few words on the subject of towels, transportation and the weather, said good-night.
She had played with that thought before, and the roomer she had had in mind was Willy Cameron. But the knowledge that he knew the Cardews had somehow changed all that. She couldn't picture him going from this sordid house to the Cardew mansion, and worse still, returning to it afterwards.
"I give you right, Mrs. Shongut. Look at Jeannette Bamberger, over on Kingston; every night when me and Mr. Lissman used to walk past last summer, right on her grand front porch that girl sat alone, like she was glued." "I know." "Then look at Birdie Schimm, across the street. Her mother a poor widow who keeps a roomer, and look how her girl did for herself!
This is the fortune this old furnished-room joint that's mortgaged up to the eaves and ain't had a roomer in three months. Hot fortune, ain't it? And here I am stranded with a batty old dame, two blocks below Christopher." "Waitin' to inherit?" I asks innocent. "Why not?" says Tessie. "I stood for Dick McCloud 'most three years. That ought to call for some pension, hadn't it?
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