The Open Window

　“My aunt will be down soon,/Mr. Nuttel,”/said the confident young woman.// “I’ll take care of you/while you wait.”// She looked about fifteen years old.//
　Framton Nuttel didn’t know the young woman,/her aunt or any of the people/he was visiting.// This country vacation was/to calm his nerves.//
　“I know how it will be,”/his sister had said/when he was getting ready.// “You’ll hide and not talk with anyone.// Your nerves will probably get worse.”// She gave him introduction letters to people,/saying,/“As far as I remember,/they were nice.”//
　Framton wondered/if Mrs. Sappleton,/the lady he was about to meet,/was “nice.”//
　“Do you know many people around here?”/asked the niece/after a long moment of silence.//
　“Hardly anyone,”/said Framton.// “My sister stayed at the rectory here/over four years ago.// She gave me letters of introduction/to some people.”//
　He spoke in a regretful voice.//
　“Then you know nothing about my aunt?”/continued the young lady.//
　“Only her name and address,”/admitted Framton.// He wondered/whether Mrs. Sappleton was married or a widow.// The room felt as if a man lived here.//
　“Her great tragedy happened/just three years ago,”/said the girl.// “That would be after your sister left.”//
　“Her tragedy?”/asked Framton.// He couldn’t imagine a tragedy/in this peaceful place.//
　“You may wonder/why we keep that window wide open/in October,”/said the niece.// She pointed at a large French window/that opened on to a lawn.//
　“It’s quite warm/for this time of year,”/said Framton.// “What does that window have to do/with the tragedy?”//