On the afternoon when Reardon had visited a second-hand
bookseller with a view of raising money--he was again shut up in
his study, dolorously at work--Amy was disturbed by the sound of
a visitor's rat-tat; the little servant went to the door, and
returned followed by Mrs Carter.
Under the best of circumstances it was awkward to receive any but
intimate friends during the hours when Reardon sat at his desk.
The little dining-room (with its screen to conceal the kitchen
range) offered nothing more than homely comfort; and then the
servant had to be disposed of by sending her into the bedroom to
take care of Willie. Privacy, in the strict sense, was
impossible, for the servant might listen at the door (one room
led out of the other) to all the conversation that went on; yet
Amy could not request her visitors to speak in a low tone. For
the first year these difficulties had not been felt; Reardon made
a point of leaving the front room at his wife's disposal from
three to six; it was only when dread of the future began to press
upon him that he sat in the study all day long.
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