"You needn't be at all afraid of that!" And then, through the closed door of the sitting-room, came the sound of Bunting coughing--it was just a little, hard cough, but Mrs.Bunting's future lodger started violently.
"Who's that ?" he said, putting out a hand and clutching her arm.
"Whatever was that ?" "Only my husband, sir.

He went out to buy a paper a few minutes ago, and the cold just caught him, I suppose." "Your husband-- ?" he looked at her intently, suspiciously.

"What -- what, may I ask, is your husband's occupation ?" Mrs.Bunting drew herself up.

The question as to Bunting's occupation was no one's business but theirs.

Still, it wouldn't do for her to show offence.