THE SHADOWY THIRD
"Yes, please—I say, Pussy, you're not eating. You must eat, darling."
"Oh, I am, don't bother. I want to talk." She lifted her eyes again and glanced at him, the light glinting on her golden eyelashes and on her hair. "I've been so lonely all day—well, not lonely, but the house was so quiet, I could hear myself think. I went into the east room and sat on the window seat. It is a cold room; I don't know how we'll ever make it warm enough."
"It has never been used, you see."
"We must have fires there this winter. Has it never been used? Didn't Anybody ever sit there or go in and out? Oh, they must have, Martin. It's not an empty-feeling room, like the attic."
"Did you stay there long?"
"No, I didn't, I was feeling restless. The white chest of drawers is locked; I wonder where the key is? We shall be wanting to use it."
"The key's lost," he said in sudden fear. "I know it's lost. I'll go up there some day and force open the drawers myself—they're empty."
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