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there was only a small blackboard, on which she addedand subtracted diligently, using a piece of chalk, as she had been taught to do in school. The problems she solved were not large, for her brain was tiny, but she was thorough, and she went over each exercise at least ten times, proceeding slowly, using cunning, persistence, and inhuman concentration. She never put a figure down on paper. Only a fool would do that—someone willing to broadcast his private affairs to the world. She trusted no one. She knew that poor people’s savings were often stolen. She had never taken a risk in her life, nor had she ever loaned a penny. Or borrowed one. In the car, she added the dollars she had in her purse now, shielding herself against the sudden misery that had come on her at the thought of her little hoard of money far away in London. Tom’s voice interrupted her. He had turned off the highway onto a narrow country road, hardly more than a pathway, that appeared to have been cut at random through a wild wood. “Welcome to Herbert’s Retreat,” he said stiffly.
    Betty turned her head to the right, and then to the left. Her eyes belittled all they saw. Beyond the irregular wall of trees and hedge, leafless now, that lined the road, houses, standing solitary, glimmered white in the dull winter air. Between the houses, a wilderness flourished—trees, bushes, remnants of old hedge, dry yellow weeds, and tangled undergrowth. Coming to his own fine house, Tom stopped the car with a jerk and scrambled out. He opened the rear door and lifted out the two pieces of luggage. Then he turned to give Betty a hand, but again she was before him, with both feet firmly on the ground. The front door opened and Liza stood there. Tom brushed rudely past her, dumped the luggage in the hall, and went into the living room, where he sat down and sulked.
    â€œI hope you will he happy here, Betty,” Liza said when her treasure was safely inside the front door.
    â€œThank you, m’lady,” Betty replied, and bobbed up and down.
    She really curtsies, Liza thought deliriously.
    Betty’s mean little eyes surveyed Liza. I could buy you and sell you, m’lady, she thought. She was satisfied that she knew all that was to be known of human nature. “I can sum them up in one glance, no matter who they are,” she would say to herself—and the sum was always the same. Liza, not knowing she had been judged and dismissed, proceeded to show Betty through the house. The walls of all the rooms were clay-colored. The furniture was constructed of silvery piping. The chairs had white tweed sling seats. The tabletops were of thick plate glass. Upstairs, Liza paused with an air of extra importance before a closed door and smiled at Betty before she opened it. Then they were looking into Betty’s own room, which was furnished like the rest of the house and contained a narrow bed. The window looked out on the nearest houses, and on the withered jungle that separated them.
    â€œNo river view here, I’m afraid,” Liza said in a tone of bright apology.
    Betty walked to the window and looked out. “I’m not much for looking at the water, m’lady,” she said.
    â€œMy mother’s room is just down the hall,” Liza said. “She’s resting now, so we won’t disturb her. Your bathroom is downstairs next to the kitchen, as you saw. There’s only one on this floor, and my mother shares it with us. These old houses—all fireplaces and no bathrooms, you know.” She waved her hand in a gesture that was friendly but not, she felt, familiar.
    â€œThank you, m’lady,” Betty said.
    Alone, Betty moved first her arms, to lift her hat from her head, then her legs, to walk to the closet, which she opened, displaying no curiosity about it. She hung her hat by its elastic from a hook on the closet door. She then hung her coat on a hanger, sat down in her sling chair, tested it