irritably.

He went across into her bar-parlour. It would not hold more than eight
or ten people, all told--just the benches along the walls, the fire
between--and two little round tables.

"I began to think you weren't coming," said the landlady, bringing him
a whiskey.

She was a large, stout, high-coloured woman, with a fine profile,
probably Jewish. She had chestnut-coloured eyes, quick, intelligent.
Her movements were large and slow, her voice laconic.

"I'm not so late, am I?" asked Aaron.

"Yes, you are late, I should think." She Looked up at the little
clock. "Close on nine."

"I did some shopping," said Aaron, with a quick smile.

"Did you indeed? That's news, I'm sure. May we ask what you bought?"

This he did not like. But he had to answer.

"Christmas-tree candles, and toffee."

"For the little children? Well you've done well for once! I must say
I recommend you. I didn't think you had so much in you."

She sat herself down in her seat at the end of the bench, and took up