The woman turned and
walked in advance into the dining-room.
"Where is Coombs?" I asked, looking about curiously.
"He done eat already, but I reckon he 'll be 'round 'gain after a
while. You all just help yerselves."
We endeavored to talk as we sampled the meal, directing our
conversation into safe channels, both obsessed with a feeling that
whatever we said would be overheard. The woman vanished into the dark
passage leading toward the kitchen, but no sound of labor reached us
from that direction, which made me suspicious that she lingered not far
from where we sat. I caught Mrs. Henley's eyes occasionally straying
in that direction uneasily. Yet she managed to keep up a sprightly
conversation, largely relating to the country we had traveled over.
Neither of us ate heartily, merely toying with the rather unpalatable
food, and, as soon as we dared, pushed back our chairs. It was a
relief to get out of the room, but as we stood a moment in the front
doorway, breathing in the fresh air, I noticed a giant form approaching
the house through the weeds.
"Coombs is coming already for his interview," I said hastily. "As it
may be stormy perhaps you had better retreat upstairs."
She glanced in the direction of his approach, and drew slightly back
into the shadow of the hall.
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