full of crimson coloured cushions. The woman was sitting on the sofa fiddling with some piece of needlework.
She did not tell Sorrell to sit down.
"Well, what's your trouble been?" she asked abruptly.
He answered her with equal abruptness.
"Is that any business of yours?"
Her eyes seemed to take in his thinness, the black and whiteness of his rather solemn face with its little moustache and neatly brushed black hair. His quick reaction to her insolence did not displease her.
"Do you want this job?" she asked.
"That depends."
"On your pride, my lad. Gentleman and ex-officer and all that!"
She pretended to fiddle with her needlework, and he looked down at her and met her occasional and baffling glances. He could not make her out. Her immense vitality, the brutal glow of her handsome strength made him feel like an'inexperienced and shy boy. Why had she told him to come to her? Was it pity, good nature?
"I want work," he said.
"Married?"
"No. But I have got a boy."
She gave him a comprehending stare.
"What made you come to Staunton?"
"I had a berth offered me. At Verity's. I came down yesterday. He was dead."
She reflected for a moment, her head bent over her work.
"Rather a comedown for you."
"That's my affair."
He had a feeling that she was amused at finding a mancreature in the corner of her cage.
"What about references, a character?"
"I could get you references from the Ex-Officers' Association. My name is Sorrell, Captain Sorrell."
"You will have to drop the 'captain.' Temporary, I suppose?"
"Yes. And what is the job?"
She dallied over revealing the details of the post he was to fill, as though it piqued her to discover at her leisure how much mauling the man-thing could bear.
