'She's celebrated for her bad memory,' Aylmer said, with a smile.
'She declares she forgets her own name sometimes. Once she got into a taxi and told the man to drive home. When he asked where that was, she said it was his business to know. She had forgotten her address.'
They both laughed.
'I'll go tomorrow,' said Dulcie, 'and see my stepmother, if you don't want me in the afternoon. Or, perhaps, the day you go for a drive would be better.'
'Tell me, Miss Clay, aren't you happy at home?'
'Oh, it isn't that. They don't want me. I'm in the way. You see, they've got used to my being out of the house.'
'But, excuse me—you don't earn your own living really?'
'No, that isn't really necessary. But I don't want to live at home.'
Her face showed such a decided distaste to the idea that he said no more.
'You're looking very well today,' Dulcie said.