“It's all in the day's work,” she observed indifferently. “You can take them up into the kitchen and give them steady work paring potatoes, or put them in the laundry ironing. In the end it's the same thing. They all go back.”
She drew a package from the locker and looked at it ruefully.
“Well, what do you know about this? Here's a woman who came in in a nightgown and pair of slippers. And now she wants to go out in half an hour!”
She turned, on her way out of the locker-room, and shot a quick glance at Sidney.
“I happened to be on your street the other night,” she said. “You live across the street from Wilsons', don't you?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so; I had heard you speak of the house. Your—your brother was standing on the steps.”
Sidney laughed.
“I have no brother. That's a roomer, a Mr. Le Moyne. It isn't really right to call him a roomer; he's one of the family now.”
“Le Moyne!”