Lawrence was silent.
“I can see that’s not all,” she said.
“No. The money all seems to have gone, and they have to leave their home and go and live in London, and Paddy’s going to be a dispenser.”
“What in the name of wonder is a dispenser?”
“A person who makes up prescriptions.”
“In a chemist’s shop!” opening her eyes wide.
“Sometimes; but in this case it would be in a private doctor’s surgery.”
“What an extraordinary occupation! What on earth put it into their heads! If I had to earn money I’d go into a big establishment where you did nothing all day long except try on lovely dresses and pat yourself on the back because you knew you looked infinitely better in them than the annoying people who had the money to buy them.”
“That wouldn’t suit Paddy. She’d probably end by throwing the dresses at the people’s heads. It’s quite likely that’s what she’ll eventually do with the bottles of medicine.”
“Poor Paddy,” said Gwen softly. “Do you know, I don’t hate her a bit now! I’m just awfully sorry.”