# The Strange Experiences of Tina Malone/Chapter 3

CHAPTER III.
ROOMS TO LET.
IN the arranging and clearing of those rooms Naomi and I came very near together—we laughed and chatted and fooled about—she called my attention to her staining and varnishing of the little sitting-room floor with pride. We had neither of us known much about housekeeping before—books and pictures were more our interests.
We had funny experiences while we were trying to let them. First it was "theatricals" who wanted champagne suppers and late nights. She had no objection to this, but Diana, when she heard of it forbade it. Then there were young married couples who had stored furniture which they wanted to bring.
It was at Easter time and rooms were scarce. There was one poor family who had trudged all day in vain search of rooms and left, knowing that there was only the park left to house them in. She would not take them because she had not enough beds.
Then there was a clairvoyant.
When I heard this I rebelled.
"Now look here, Naomi, if you have that woman here I'll say good-bye to you. Fancy sitting opposite a woman at breakfast, for instance, who could see through you. No, thanks, I prefer to keep my mask on. No thought-reading for me. So its good-bye if she's to come."
"She's not coming, dear, so you need not worry—keep your mask on and be happy. But she read my palms and she says she can't see me here long, but I am to be in a place with a lot of people round me."
​"Oh nonsense," I said, "You're more likely to be left in the lurch with only me to put up with."
But one night when I went down to her she cleared a chair for me with an air of triumph.
"Dear! Don't be shocked, but I've let the whole flat and I'm going over to stay with my sister-in-law for a week."
"Why not with me?" I asked.
"No," she said, looking at me with her deep eyes, "I've promised to go there."
"Then I'll get married," I cried impetuously. "It's a shame. What am I going to do without you? I'll be horribly lonely. Oh, Naomi, why do you go away? I can't do without you. I'll just write to my cousin and tell him I'll marry him."
But the next night she said:
"I'm coming to you, dear, if you'll let me, after all—I'm not going to pay you a penny of money but I won't be any expense to you if you let me have that room for a week. They're coming on Saturday. Do you think the vibrations will clash?"
She laid her hand against mine as it rested on the chair—She was a rebel now.
"Oh, I don't think they'll clash," I said.
As we said good-night, she placed her hands on each side of my waist and kissed me, first on one cheek then on the other.
"Are you going to be married now?" she said playfully. "Have you written to your cousin yet?"
"No, not now that you are coming," I said.
We busied getting the flat ready. The people were to come on Saturday evening and on Friday night Naomi suddenly discovered that she had no gas-mantles.
"Oh, good gracious! What shall we do? I'll run up and see if the shops are still open. I want to get the paper too."
"Get me a copy too, dear," said Naomi, "I shall want some for my shelves."
I hurried back and after we had arranged the mantles on the gas jets Naomi opened her paper to see how many lodgers she might have taken and couldn't.
I was looking over her shoulder and catching sight of the concert programme with "Peer Gynt" in the list, began to talk of Ibsen.
"You remind me of Hedda, Naomi."
"Haven't read it," she said.
"Very well, you shall," I said. "I don't know why I think it because you're not a bit like her really, I suppose. I think it must be the way you wear your hair. I'll bring the book down this afternoon," I said.
I thought of it afterwards as being mysterious. As I spoke ​I seemed to be conscious somehow of a third person being present.
It seems unbelievable but over in the corner there I seemed to know of a shadowy something and to know that Naomi and I were not alone.
I had always laughed at omens, superstitions, and ghosts, but I had had that feeling once or twice before when I was with her.
I gave her the book on my way out. I had promised to go out to see someone—and did not reach home till rather late.
It was getting dark. I threw myself down in the comfortable arm-chair I kept in a cosy corner with its back to the light, and threw my head back, and gave myself up to a lovely feeling of rest.
An irresistible feeling came over me to go down and see what Naomi was doing.
It seemed a silly thing to go down just to say good-night. I knew she must be tired after having worried about getting things ready all day.
I put the feeling aside but it seemed to take possession of me and at last I gave way to it and went.
"Are you there, Naomi?"
"Yes, come in," she said.
She was sitting with Hedda Gabler open as if she had been reading it. Her head was bent over it and her hands clasped tight with her fingers interlocked and pressed—fingers outward—tight against her forehead. She did not move as I came in. The lamp burned bright on the table before her.
"Headache?" I asked breaking the silence.
"No—anything but," she said.
She would not look up at me at all and I sat quiet wondering.
"I've finished your 'Hedda,'" she said, "how you can like her I don't know."
"I didn't say I liked her," I said, "except for her artistic value. I like the play."
"You're the queerest mixture of theory and practice," she said. "She was a beast to those aunts, and you believe in kindness."
"Oh, Naomi, those aunts were rather troublesome," I said.
No, not a word of praise for Hedda.
But there was something strange and mysterious about her that night. She did not stir while I was there but just looked up to say good-night.
"If you could let me have your latch-key, dear, when you go out on Saturday, I might take my things up in the morning," she had said.
​So when Saturday arrived I hunted up a gay little ribbon, tied it to my latch-key and went down to her.
"There you are," I said.
I held the ribbon over her head like a necklace and dropped it and kissed her cheek with a laugh.
She started as I held it up as if she did not know what I was going to do.
"Wear it there just as I do," I said, turning to her as I hurried to the door.
"Now I'm safe," she said.
There was a curious look on her face as she said it—something mysterious that I could not understand.
Safe! Why "safe?" I wondered, and I thought of a hunted thing.
I ran off to my work, happy in the thought of having her even closer at hand and someone to meet me right at home when I came back.