"I think that's perfectly true," Susan said, struck. "Isn't she wise?" she added.
"Yes, she's a wonder! Wise and strong,--she's doing too much now, though. How long since you've been over there, Sue?"
"Oh, ages! I'm ashamed to say. Months. I write to Anna now and then, but somehow, on Sundays--"
She did not finish, but his thoughts supplied the reason. Susan was always at home on Sundays now, unless she went out with Peter Coleman.
"You ought to take Coleman over there some day, Sue, they used to know him when he was a kid. Let's all go over some Sunday."
"That would be fun!" But he knew she did not mean it. The atmosphere of the Carrolls' home, their poverty, their hard work, their gallant endurance of privation and restriction were not in accord with Susan's present mood. "How are all of them?" she presently asked, after an interval, in which Alfie's moaning and the hoarse deep voice of Mary Lord upstairs had been the only sounds.
"Pretty good. Joe's working now, the little darling!"
"Joe is! What at?"
"She's in an architect's office, Huxley and Huxley. It's a pretty good job, I guess."
"But, Billy, doesn't that seem terrible? Joe's so beautiful, and when you think how rich their grandfather was! And who's home?"