“Let’s—by all means.”
Mrs. Warner led the way upstairs and gazed around the house. It was very orderly, but Cecily looked very tired.
“What does Dick say to all this?”
“Dick protests, but that doesn’t solve the servant problem.” There was a little edge in Cecily’s tone. “Dick doesn’t like domesticity anyhow if it interferes with his amusements.”
“I wouldn’t talk like that. It’s not like you.”
Cecily flushed. “Lots of things that didn’t use to be like me are becoming normal. A little more Billingsgate in my manner is only natural after doing the washing, isn’t it?”
Her mother did not smile. She looked worried.
“You are tired.”
“Please don’t say that, mother. Of course I’m tired. Why shouldn’t I be tired? But it isn’t lack of sleep or work that tires me as much as—other things.”
“What things?” Mrs. Warner’s questions came not curiously, but reluctantly as if she did not want confidences and was forcing herself to ask for them.