"I was on my way to The Bell and Dragon," Billy told her.
"But the notice in your window just happened to catch my
eye."
"My dear boy," she said, "why don't you come in out of
the cold?"
"How much do you charge?"
"Five and sixpence a night, including breakfast."
It was fantastically cheap. It was less than half of what
he had been willing to pay.
"If that is too much," she added, "then perhaps I can reduce
it just a tiny bit. Do you desire an egg for breakfast? Eggs
are expensive at the moment. It would be sixpence less without
the egg."
"Five and sixpence is fine," he answered. "I should like very
much to stay here."
"I knew you would. Do come in."
She seemed terribly nice. She looked exactly like the mother
of one's best school-friend welcoming one into the house to
stay for the Christmas holidays. Billy took off his hat, and
stepped over the threshold.
"Just hang it there," she said, "and let me help you with your
coat."
There were no other hats or coats in the hall. There were no
umbrellas, no walking-sticks--nothing.
"We have it all to ourselves," she said, smiling at him over
her shoulder as she led the way upstairs. "You see, it isn't
very often I have the pleasure of taking a visitor into my
little nest."
The old girl is slightly dotty, Billy told himself. But at five
and sixpence a night, who gives a damn about that? "I should've
thought you'd be simply swamped with applicants," he said
politely.
"Oh, I am, my dear, I am, of course I am. But the trouble is that
I'm inclined to be just a teeny weeny bit choosy and particular--
if you see what I mean."
"Ah, yes."