“Ah she is stupid . That is the whole thing.” He sat forward stretching and contracting his hands till the muscles cracked; his eyes, flashing their unconcerned contemptuous judgment, were all at once the brilliant misty eyes of a child about to be quenched by sudden sleep.
“ No ,” she said resentfully, “she wants good people, and when they come she has to make all she can out of them. If they stayed she would be able to afford to do things better. Of course they don’t come back or recommend her; and the house is always half empty. Her best plan would be to fill it with students at a fixed low figure.” Miss Scott again … his attention was wandering … “The dead flowers ,” he was back again, “in dirty water in a cracked vase; Sissie rushing out, while breakfast is kept waiting, to buy just enough butter for one meal.”
“Really?” he giggled.
“She has been most awfully good to me.”
“Why not?” he chuckled.
“Do you think you will go and see your Polish friend tomorrow?” She watched anxiously.