I went back to bed and tried to sleep, for the water had dropped an
inch or so on the stairs, and I knew the danger was over. Peter came,
shivering, at dawn, and got on to the sofa with me. I put an end of
the quilt over him, and he stopped shivering after a time and went to
sleep.

The dog was company. I lay there, wide awake, thinking about Mr.
Pitman's death, and how I had come, by degrees, to be keeping a cheap
boarding-house in the flood district, and to having to take impudence
from everybody who chose to rent a room from me, and to being called
a she-devil. From that I got to thinking again about the Ladleys, and
how she had said he was a fiend, and to doubting about his having gone
out for medicine for her. I dozed off again at daylight, and being
worn out, I slept heavily.

At seven o'clock Mr. Reynolds came to the door, dressed for the store.
He was a tall man of about fifty, neat and orderly in his habits, and
he always remembered that I had seen better days, and treated me as a
lady.

"Never mind about breakfast for me this morning, Mrs. Pitman," he
said. "I'll get a cup of coffee at the other end of the bridge. I'll
take the boat and send it back with Terry."

He turned and went along the hall and down to the boat. I heard him
push off from the stairs with an oar and row out into the street.
Peter followed him to the stairs.

At a quarter after seven Mr. Ladley came out and called to me: "Just