Vera's hand trembled as, under instructions, she tipped the tea-leaves
into the saucer.
"Ay!" said the witch, in broadest Staffordshire, running her
objectionable hand up and down the buttons of her linsey-woolsey bodice,
and gently agitating the saucer. "Theer's a widder theer." [There's a
widow there.] "Yo'll be havin' a letter, or it mit be a talligram--"
Vera wouldn't hear any more. Her one fear in life was the fear of
Stephen's death (though she _did_ console Charlie with nice smiles and
lots of _tete-a-tete)_, and here was this fiendish witch directly
foreseeing the dreadful event.
III
Every day for many days Stephen expected to have to take part in a
pitched battle about the proposed balcony. The sweet enemy, however, did
not seem to be in fighting form. It is true that she mentioned the
balcony, but she mentioned it in quite a reasonable spirit. Astounding
as the statement may appear to any personal acquaintance of Vera's, Vera
showed a capacity to perceive that there were two sides to the question.
When Stephen pointed out that balconies were unsuited to the English
climate, she almost agreed.
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