A queer little building was the one she directed me to and when Miss Perkins opened at my knock I felt as if I were in a book.
She was quaintly dressed in white—a small person with sloping shoulders and a vague hesitating manner.
"Well, I don't know that I can let you have rooms," she said with a long-drawn emphasis on the "rooms," "but there's a flat next door that will be empty to-morrow. The people are in now but they might let you look at it."
When I found that it was not very much more than I had been paying for my room in town I admitted that I should like to see it and we went together.
"The lower floor is already let," said Miss Perkins, "but that is underground. You would not care for it."
She led the way walking lightly—almost on tip-toes as if she were afraid of being heard.
I followed her through the hall and to the small balcony room in front and the view that burst upon me there took my breath away it was so beautiful—the harbour lights twinkling through a mist.
I then and there decided to take it and soon afterwards I moved in.
And Naomi was in the flat below.
