On the third floor at the rear was a room--a mere continuation of the narrow hall, partitioned off.

It contained a small folding bed, a small table, a tiny bureau, a washstand hardly as large as that in the cabin on the boat, a row of hooks with a curtain of flowered chintz before them, a kitchen chair, a chromo of "Awake and Asleep," a torn and dirty rag carpet.

The odor of the room, stale, damp, verging on moldy, seemed the fitting exhalation from such an assemblage of forbidding objects.
"It's a nice, comfortable room," said Mrs.Wylie aggressively.
"I couldn't afford to give it and two meals for five dollars except till the first of September.

After that it's eight." "I'll be glad to stay, if you'll let me," said Susan.

Mrs.
Wylie's suspicion, so plain in those repellent eyes, took all the courage out of her.