“Yes, but why?”
“Mrs. Chater would not like it for one thing, I feel sure.”
“Oh, that's all rot. Mother wouldn't mind—anyway, I do as I like in this house.”
From all she had heard of Mrs. Chater's beloved Bob, Mary guessed this to be true. Long prior to his arrival she had been prejudiced against him; acquaintance emphasised the prophetic impression.
“Another night, then,” she said.
He felt he was winning. No girl withstood him long.
“No, to-night. Another thing—I want to know you better. This arrangement is all new to me. There was a nurse here in your place when I went. I've hardly spoken to you. Have you ever been abroad?”
“No.”
“Well, I'll tell you—and the kids—some of my adventures while you're tubbing 'em. Lead on.”
She was at the night-nursery door. Evidently this man would not see her conventional reason for not wishing him at the tubbing. Angela had grown a biggish girl since he went away.