'But what with? Don't say the piano came in
two in your hands?'
'It wasn't my 'ands, it was my feet. The floor gave way an' I went
through.'
'You went through the floor!' I marvelled. Then my face cleared. The
house was not mine, and, after all, the landlord has no right to escape
these unusual machinations of Fate.
'I knew somethink would 'appen when I put the boots on the table by
accident this mornin',' she explained, 'It's always a Bad Sign.'
You must not think, however, that Elizabeth ever allows her fatalism to
interfere with her judgment. I recall the occasion when she came to me
looking actually concerned and remarked: 'I'm sorry, 'm, but them two
varses that was on the mantelpiece in the pink bedroom----'
I started up. 'Don't dare to say you've been unlucky with them!'
'No'm, I wasn't unlucky. I was just careless when I broke those.'
A low moan escaped my lips. They were the Sevres vases that I loved
dearest of my possessions, and which, in the words of those who keep
shops, 'cannot be repeated.' I regarded Elizabeth angrily, no longer
able to control my wrath. I am at times (says Henry) a hasty woman. I
ought to have paused and put my love of Sevres vases in the balance
with the diet of scrambled eggs and the prospect of unlimited
washing-up, and I know which side would have tipped up at once.
However, I did not pause, caring not that the bitter recriminations I
intended to hurl at her would bring forth the inevitable month's
notice; that, at the first hint of her leaving me, at least a dozen of
my neighbours would stretch out eager hands to snatch Elizabeth, a
dozen different vacant sinks were ready for her selection.
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