There was never any formal beginning to Aunt Clo's letters, and her signature, launched abruptly onto the page with no conventional valedictory phrase, was a complicated hieroglyphic of initials, understood to be characteristic.
"What a splendid person she is," Nicholas remarked, as he did with punctuality whenever Miss Stellenthorpe was mentioned, "always helping somebody. Helping lame dogs over stiles, eh?"
Lily did not answer, and he repeated: "Eh, Lily?"
It was one of the tiring things about Nicholas that he always required a reply to everything that he said, however obvious.
"Yes."
"But all the same, charity begins at home. Shall we write and tell her so, eh?"
"She'll come in six weeks," said Lily, smiling without any mirth, conscious only of overpowering fatigue.
"Six weeks! I should like to think of something for you before that, my dear."
Two days later, Nicholas came to her exultant. "The very thing! I've got the very thing for you—splendid!"
Lily tried not to look dismayed.