Well, I hadn’t got even a kennel, though at that moment I wanted to slink off and find one. But I wasn’t through yet. I did not want unjustly to condemn the Sister, and it was necessary that I should discover the type of lodger that was acceptable.

I lurked in the passage near the entrance⁠—lurking is one of the fine arts I learned in my wanderings⁠—and watched the door to the kitchen like a lynx. Presently a nice-looking young woman carrying a despatch case walked briskly up the street and into the house. I judged her to be a shop assistant, who wanted to get away from living-in for a night. I watched her enter the little lobby and descend the stairs⁠—no frying fork barred her way, and I listened to her conversation with the Sister.

She answered all enquiries satisfactorily and was fixed up for the night.

I left that house with a burning sense of injury.