Decorative painting

Decorative painting
I've got a reason for wanting to go there," she murmured. It was a comfort to unburden herself this little way even to a stranger.
"Ah!" he said reflectively. "A - a relative connected with one of the two victims' husbands, I presume?"
And Mrs. Bunting bent her head.
"Going to give evidence?" he asked casually, and then he turned and looked at Mrs. Bunting with far more attention than he had yet done.
"Oh, no!" There was a world of horror, of fear in the speaker's voice.
And the inspector felt concerned and sorry. "Hadn't seen her for quite a long time, I suppose?"
"Never had, seen her. I'm from the country." Something impelled Mrs. Bunting to say these words. But she hastily corrected herself, "At least, I was."
"Will he be there?"
She looked at him dumbly; not in the least knowing to whom he was alluding.
"I mean the husband," went on the inspector hastily. "I felt sorry for the last poor chap - I mean the husband of the last one - he seemed so awfully miserable. You see, she'd been a good wife and a good mother till she took to the drink."