“All right,” said her sister sulkily. “Where’s the hurry?”
It was already half-past four, but Elsie guessed that Geraldine did not want to go and fetch the tea and leave her alone with Morrison.
“No hurry, I suppose,” she cried gaily, “but I’m a bit tired, that’s all, and I thought I’d like a nice cup of tea. It’s a good long way to come, and the Tube was pretty full.”
“Where did you come from?” Morrison asked eagerly.
She named the suburb. “You must come and look us up one day, Mr. Morrison. My husband is a solicitor, and he’s always at home on Saturdays and Sundays. The rest of the week I’m by myself and ever so lonely,” sighed Elsie.
“I’d love to come. I should—er—like to meet Mr. Williams,” said Morrison solemnly.
“Here’s Mother!” Geraldine announced sharply, as a door banged downstairs.
Mrs. Palmer came in, breathing heavily, her hands full of parcels.
“Elsie! Dear me, this is a surprise. Good afternoon, Mr. Morrison, how are you? Quite well, thank you, but for Anno Domini, that’s all that’s the matter with me.” She dropped into a chair.
“Where’s tea?”