"Aristocratic houses in Bloomsbury—aristocratic!" said mother, and there was a tone of almost scorn in her voice.
"I assure you it is the case, madam. Russell Square is becoming quite the fashion again, and so is"—he paused—"Would Tavistock Square suit you?" he said, glancing at me.
"I do not know," I answered. "I seem to be better acquainted with the names of Russell Square or Bloomsbury Square. After all, if we can get a large enough house it does not greatly matter, provided it is in Bloomsbury. We wish to see several houses, for we cannot decide without a large choice."
"You would not be induced, ladies, to think of a flat?" queried the agent.
Mother glanced at me; there was almost an appeal in her eyes. If I could only be induced to allow her to live in a tiny, tiny flat—she and I alone on our one hundred and fifty a year—but my eyes were bright with determination, and I said firmly—
"We wish to look at houses, we do not want a flat."
Accordingly, after a little more argument, we were supplied with orders to view, and returning to the carriage I gave brief directions to Jenkins.
During the rest of the morning we had a busy time. We went from one house to another. Most were large; some had handsome halls and wide staircases, and double doors, and other relics of past grandeur, but all were gloomy and dirty, and mother became more and more depressed, and more and more hopeless, as she entered each one in turn.
"Really, Westenra," she said, "we cannot do it. No, my darling, it is hopeless. Think of the staff of servants we should require. Do look at these stairs, it is quite worth counting them. My dear child, such a life would kill me."
But I was young and buoyant, and did not feel the stairs, and my dreams seemed to become more rosy as obstacles appeared in view. I was determined to conquer, I had made up my mind to succeed.