but I don’t seem to breathe extra well in these little rooms, somehow! I’ve been in two or three of them like this, more or less, since I came to New York—people I used to know that I’ve been hunting up—and, by George, I began to feel as if I was getting red in the face, if you see what I mean.”
“Yes, indeed, Cousin Lorando, I do,” returned Miss Trueman eagerly, “I see exactly. And not having any cellar—you’ve no idea! Nor any attic, either. And often and often we have the gas lighted all through breakfast. Of course there are a great many conveniences,” she added loyally, “and there’s no doubt it saves steps. But I almost think I’d rather take ’em.”
He nodded.
“What’s become of the old place, Cousin Jule? I judge you’ve been out of it some time?”
“Two years, Cousin Lorando. The girls had been boarding up to then, and
