The old sense of the house was crumbling. To Mrs. Bailey it was worry and things she could not talk about to anyone, and a few nice people here and there. And all the time she was polite; as if she liked them all, equally. And they were polite. Everyone was polite. And behind it was all this. Shifts and secrets and strange characters. When they were all together at Mrs. Bailey’s dinner, they were all carrying things off, politely. Perhaps already she regretted having sent away the lodgers.
“The doctors were nice people to have in the house.”
“Wasn’t they dear boys? Very nice gentlemen. Canadians are the ones to my mind, though I believe as much as any in standing by your own. But you’ve got to consider your interests.”
“Of course.”
“That’s why I mean to advertiss. My word those Hurds are good friends if you like. I couldn’t tell you. The old man’s put an advert for me in the Canadian place in the city.”
“Then you’ll have a houseful of Canadians.”
“That’s what I hope. The more the better of their kind.”
“We shall all be speaking Canadian.”
“Well, since we’re on the subject, Mrs. Hurd advises me to go to Canada. Says it’s all work and no pay over here. Everybody expects too much for too little.”
How could she rejoice in the idea of a house full of Canadians? All the same. Canadian. It would change the house more and more. Mrs. Bailey would not mind that. The house meant nothing to her just as it was with its effect. She had to make it pay. If another house would pay better she would just as soon have another house. “You wouldn’t like to leave London; there’s no place like London.” The Hurds thought everyone in the house selfish, living on Mrs. Bailey’s work, enjoying the house for nothing, forgetting her. It was true ... uneasy in her presence....