"So many years that you have been living here? Well, I don't wonder
at that; it's a grand old house. I suppose you all use the garden,"
I went on, "but I assure you I shouldn't be in your way.
I would be very quiet and stay in one corner."

"We all use it?" she repeated after me, vaguely, not coming close
to the window but looking at my shoes. She appeared to think me
capable of throwing her out.

"I mean all your family, as many as you are."

"There is only one other; she is very old--she never goes down."

"Only one other, in all this great house!" I feigned to be not only amazed
but almost scandalized. "Dear lady, you must have space then to spare!"

"To spare?" she repeated, in the same dazed way.

"Why, you surely don't live (two quiet women--I see YOU
are quiet, at any rate) in fifty rooms!" Then with a burst
of hope and cheer I demanded: "Couldn't you let me two or three?
That would set me up!"

I had not struck the note that translated my purpose, and I need
not reproduce the whole of the tune I played. I ended by making my
interlocutress believe that I was an honorable person, though of course
I did not even attempt to persuade her that I was not an eccentric one.
I repeated that I had studies to pursue; that I wanted quiet;
that I delighted in a garden and had vainly sought one up and