Mary unlocked the door, and Joan passed in and waited.

Mary lit a candle that was standing on a bracket and turned to lead the way.
"Shall I shut the door ?" suggested Joan.
Mary blushed like a child that has been found out just as it was hoping that it had not been noticed.
"It doesn't matter, dearie," she explained.

"They know, if they find it open, that I'm in." The little room looked very cosy when Mary had made up the fire and lighted the lamp.

She seated Joan in the worn horsehair easy-chair; out of which one had to be careful one did not slip on to the floor; and spread her handsome shawl over the back of the dilapidated sofa.
"You won't mind my running away for a minute," she said.

"I shall only be in the next room." Through the thin partition, Joan heard a constant shrill, complaining voice.