“I would like to.”
We went downstairs. Mrs. Slaney trotted busily a pace or two ahead.
“This is the flat.” She opened a door leading into a sitting-room.
“Nice and airy,” she declared, bustling towards a window, and vainly trying to put it up. “I must get that sash fixed. There’s a bedroom at the back, and the use of a bathroom.”
“How much?” I asked, in a faltering voice.
“Three guineas. I give services for that, too. It’s cheaper than most flats, and the best situation in Dublin. So near the Green.”
“What are the services?”
“Mrs. O’Grady is a very good cook—that goes without saying; and there is a housemaid as well. You dine at night, I suppose?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t like dinner served much after seven. There’s Mrs. O’Grady to consider.”