When she went out and closed the door, Mary
could only stand waiting, a plain little thing, twisting
her thin hands together. She could see
that the man in the chair was not so much a
hunchback as a man with high, rather crooked
shoulders, and he had black hair streaked with
white. He turned his head over his high shoulders
and spoke to her.

"Come here!" he said.

Mary went to him.

He was not ugly. His face would have been
handsome if it had not been so miserable. He
looked as if the sight of her worried and fretted
him and as if he did not know what in the world
to do with her.

"Are you well?" he asked.

"Yes," answered Mary.

"Do they take good care of you?"

"Yes."

He rubbed his forehead fretfully as he looked
her over.

"You are very thin," he said.

"I am getting fatter," Mary answered in what
she knew was her stiffest way.

What an unhappy face he had! His black eyes
seemed as if they scarcely saw her, as if they were
seeing something else, and he could hardly keep
his thoughts upon her.

[[145]]

p144 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p145w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p146

v?