"Poor Flora." Margaret was grave. "I didn't know she had any children."
"I knew she was always pleased to have clothes given her." Catherine shivered. "The socks were pitiful! A symbol of her effort."
"Well"—Charles drew at his pipe and paused, impressively—"you can see what happens to a family when the mother isn't at home."
"Listen to the King!" Margaret flared indignantly. "What about the man? Living on her, and——"
"If she'd made him support her, he might have had more steadiness."
"I suppose"—Amy drawled—"you go on the theory that men are so unstable that they can't stand freedom."
Charles had a dangerous little twitch under one eye. Catherine flung herself into the whirl of antagonism.
"Will you tell me, some of you, what I am to do now? Flora won't come back. She'll be drawn into trials and all that for a while, and then she'll hunt up a new place, where no one knows about her. And meantime——"
"Telephone an agency," said Amy.