“I will, as long as I can, but I promised Mrs. Harrison and she really couldn’t get along without me.”
“Let her get some one else.”
“I promised her, Fliss. I’ll fix your mother up, but I’ve got to go back to my own place.”
Fliss stood up, passing her slim hands over her well-tailored hips, lifting her hand bag delicately from the crowded table. Her face was perplexed.
“I’m no good at nursing, you know,” she commented.
“No; but we must find some one who is just the right person.”
“Do. And I’ll come just as often as I possibly can.”
“I would. She’s your mother, Fliss.”
Fliss frowned a little and went out into the sunlight. There her step quickened and her face grew gradually brighter. She seemed to be tossing the misery from her at every step.
She made some calls, told her hostesses a little plaintively about her worry for her mother, and after having exposed her trouble in several charming and handsome rooms, felt it vastly easier to bear. She succeeded in making it a little more remote, somehow putting it in a better setting.