"Do you? That's your father cropping out in you. I'm beginning to believe that he prefers things to persons; so you'd better be warned in time. The beauty of this world ain't to be found in sticks or stones."
"Cheer up, mumsie! I shan't devote my young life to either a stick or a stone."
She laughed softly as Mabel Dredge came quietly in. Susan looked at her husband's typist not too pleasantly. She was not jealous of the young woman, but it exasperated her to reflect that Mabel spent two hours at least every day with Quinney. She said crisply:
"Mr. Quinney is out, Miss Dredge."
"I know. The chairs from Christopher's have just come."
Posy exclaimed excitedly: "I'm dying to see them." Susan sighed. Nine hundred pounds would have bought another Dream Cottage, with a small garden. Miss Dredge continued in her monotonous voice:
"Mr. Quinney left orders that they were to be brought up here."
"Very good," said Susan. "Tell Mr. Miggott to bring them up."
"Yes, madam."
The typist moved slowly towards the door. Susan glanced at her keenly, contrasting her with Posy. In her usual kind voice she murmured: