“There’s nothing there for a man to see.”
“I shall have to change my dress, and I’m sure I don’t want the fag. Rebecca, just go and look at the things I’ve bought—in the other room—and, Becky, fold them up for me, will you, and put them on my bed?”
As soon as she’d gone out, Lettie said: “She’ll enjoy doing it, won’t she, mother, they’re so nice! Do you think I need dress, mother?”
“Please yourself—do as you wish.”
“I suppose I shall have to; he doesn’t like blouses and skirts of an evening he says; he hates the belt. I’ll wear that old cream cashmere; it looks nice now I’ve put that new lace on it. Don’t those violets smell nice?—who got them?”
“Cyril brought them in.”
“George sent them you,” said I.
“Well, I’ll just run up and take my dress off. Why are we troubled with men!”
“It’s a trouble you like well enough,” said mother.
“Oh, do I? such a bother!” and she ran upstairs.