She went and stood before the shelves.
‘But how dusty you are! Who cleans for you?’
‘No one. A very rickety old woman draws a certain number of shillings each week, on pretence of cleaning.’
‘What a shame! She neglects you disgracefully. You shall go away some afternoon, and leave me here with a great pile of dusters.’
‘You can do that kind of thing? It never occurred to me to ask you: are you a domestic person?’
She answered with something of the old confident air.
‘That was an oversight, wasn’t it? After all, how little you know about me!’
‘Do you know much more of me?’
Her countenance fell.
‘You are going to tell me—everything. How long have you lived here?’