"It's ridiculous of her," said Alston, "but there's no harm in it. They're not a bad lot, and she's an old lady, and she won't stay here forever."
"Oh, yes, she will. She gets her food, at least, and I don't believe she could pay for even that abroad. And this sort of thing amuses her. It's like gipsies or circus people or something. It's horrible."
"What does your grandmother say?"
"Nothing."
"She must stand for it, in a way, or Madame Beattie couldn't do it."
"I don't believe grandmother understands fully. She's so old."
"She isn't tremendously old."
"Oh, but she looks so. When you see her in her nightcap—it's horrible, the whole thing, grandmother and all, and here I am shut up with it."
"I'm sorry," said Alston, in a low tone. "I'm devilish sorry."
"And I want to go away," said Esther, her voice rising hysterically, so that Alston nervously hoped she wouldn't cry. "But I can't do that. I haven't enough to live on, away from here, and I'm afraid."