"
They walked a little way in silence. Mary slipped her hand into Joan's.
"You wouldn't care to come home and have a bit of supper with me, would
you, dearie?" she asked.
"Oh, may I?" answered Joan.
Mary's hand gave Joan's a little squeeze. "You won't mind if anybody
drops in?" she said. "They do sometimes of a Sunday evening."
"You don't mean a party?" asked Joan.
"No, dear," answered Mary. "It's only one or two who have nowhere else
to go."
Joan laughed. She thought she would be a fit candidate.
"You see, it makes company for me," explained Mary.
Mary lived in a tiny house behind a strip of garden. It stood in a
narrow side street between two public-houses, and was covered with ivy.
It had two windows above and a window and a door below. The upstairs
rooms belonged to the churchwardens and were used as a storehouse for old
parish registers, deemed of little value. Mary Stopperton and her
bedridden husband lived in the two rooms below. Mary unlocked the door,
and Joan passed in and waited. Mary lit a candle that was standing on a
bracket and turned to lead the way.
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