“Poor boy,” sighed Mrs. Bailey.
“Why poor boy? Nothing of the sort,” said Miriam.
“Well, it’s a comfort to me you think that; I’ve worried meself ill over him. I’ve been keeping him off for over a twelvemonth.”
“Well, it’s all settled now so you needn’t worry any more.”
“It’s his age I look to; he’s only two and twenty,” flushed Mrs. Bailey.
“He looks older than that.”
“He does look more than his age, I allow; he never had any home; his father married a second time; he says this is the first home he’s had; he’s never been so happy.” All the time he had been halting about in the evenings in the dining-room, never going out and seeming to have nothing to do but a sort of malicious lying-in-wait to make facetious remarks, he had been feeling at home, happy at home, and growing happier and happier. Poor little man, at home in nothing but the dining-room at Tansley Street.... Mrs. Bailey..... Was he good enough for her? She had not always liked or even approved of him.
“Well; that’s lovely. Of course he has been happy here.”
“That’s all very well for the past; but there’s many breakers ahead. He wants me to give up and have a little home of our own. But there’s my chicks. I can’t give up till they’re settled. I’ve told him that. I can’t do less than my duty by them.”
“Of course not. He’s a dear. I think he’s splendid.” But how generously glowing the struggling house seemed now; compared to a life alone, in some small small corner, with Mr. Gunner.....