LILY. But you talked of housekeeping, dear.
MAGGIE. Yes, but that’s quite different from being married. If I could cook decently, I would have left the shop before.
LILY. But you are going to leave the shop!
MAGGIE. [unheeding.] Or if I understood anything about the house properly, but I couldn’t be even a mother’s help unless I could wash.
LILY. I don’t know what you mean, Maggie. You haven’t got to wash. You know Mr. Foster can afford to send it all out. [Sighing enviously.] That must be nice.
MAGGIE. I heard of a girl the other day, Fanny White—you know her—she’s gone to Canada.
LILY. Canada! Who’s talking about Canada? What’s that to do—?
MAGGIE. I was envious. She used to be with us at the shop.
LILY. [impatiently.] Yes, I know. Well, you’ve done better than she, anyway, Maggie, if she is going to Canada. She’ll only be a servant, after all. What else can she do? And then in the end she’ll marry some farmer man and have to work fearfully hard—I’ve heard about the women over there—and wish she had never left England. While here are you, going to marry a rich man who’s devoted to you, with plenty of money and long holidays, and your own servant to begin with! Really, Maggie—!