Коллекционер

           Andshelookedround.Therewassomethingmischievousabouthersometimes,youcouldseeshewaslookingfortrouble,inaniceway.Teasinglike.

           "Aren’tyougoingtoshowmeyourhouse?"

           Shehadarealsmileon,thefirstIeversaw;Icouldn’tdoanythingbutsmileback.

           It’slate,Isaid.

           "Howoldisit?"Shespokeasifshedidn’thearme.

           There’sastonesays1621overthedoor.

           "Thisisthewrong-colouredcarpet.Yououghttohaverushmattingorsomething.Andthosepictures—horrible!"

           Shemovedalongthelandingtoseethem.Cunning.

           Theycostenough,Isaid.

           "It’snotmoneyyougoby."

           Ican’tsayhowstrangeitwas,usstandingthere.Hermakingcriticismslikeatypicalwoman.

           "CanIlookintherooms?"

           Iwasn’tmyself,Icouldn’tresistthepleasure,soIstoodwithherinthedoorwaysandshowedthem,theonereadyforAuntAnnie,andMabel’s,iftheyevercame,andmine.Mirandalookedverycloseroundeachone.Ofcoursethecurtainsweredrawn,andIwatchedrightnexttohertoseeshedidn’ttryanyfunnybusiness.