Before they parted she returned again to the question of the loan.
"If you possibly can you'll let me have it, won't you? We really are rather at our wits' end. Everyone is so dreadfully healthy just now, and the rent is pretty bad—quarter-day coming. I do want some pretty things for little Violet. I should hate her to wear Hilary's left-offs."
A little smile, that was almost whimsical, touched Mrs. Walbridge's flexible lips.
"My children all wore each other's left-offs," she said softly, "and it didn't seem to hurt them. Grisel looked very sweet in your long robes. However, I'll see what I can do, darling, and I can let you have twenty-five—only don't mention it to Paul, will you?"
She changed buses at Oxford Circus, and after waiting a long time on the corner, she gave up trying to force her way into the overcrowded buses (for she hadn't the gift of crowds) and walked home. It was nearly tea-time when she reached Happy House, and after a hasty cup of tea she went up to her little attic study and sat down to work.
When Paul came home at dinner-time he was not unreasonably annoyed to find his mother still writing.
"Do come down," he called. "Dinner's on the table, and I'm hungry."
When she appeared, he looked with distaste at her ruffled hair and ink-stained finger.
"Really, mother," he exclaimed irritably, "I do think you might manage to be in time for meals. It's disgusting to a man to get home and have to wait for his food."
"I shan't be a minute, dear," she said. "I must just wash my hands and brush my hair."