"Thank you, dear." She saw a muscle in his cheek suddenly begin to twitch, and she thought, "It won't be easy."
When Joe left for his office, she went with him to the door.
She turned at once to the housekeeping. Her talks with the waitress and the cook left her both a little relieved and a good deal disappointed. For there seemed to be nothing for her to do; she was made to feel that things would run best with the least possible interference. She learned with surprise that hitherto the cook had done all the ordering.
"All I need to know is how many is coming," said the cook.
"There won't be any one for awhile."
"Then it's very simple, ma'am." On the woman's face was a look which said, "Just you keep out of my kitchen."
It was the same in her talk with the nurse. That tall gaunt creature briefly explained that, "Mrs. Lanier bought clothes Spring and Fall, and then she left the child to me. I go out every Thursday and every other Sunday—afternoon and evening. Lucy the waitress takes my place. The rest of the time I've managed alone." She looked around in a jealous way and asked, "I suppose you'll want things as before?"
"Yes, for the present," Ethel said. She felt the woman glance at her sharply as she turned toward the door.
She went into her sister's room, sat down and had a little cry. But the sunlight was streaming in through the pretty chintz curtains there; and its softness and its ease, its luxury and blithe content, stole into her spirit and quieted her. She sat looking about.
"What is there for me to do?"