"Not you. Not much!"
She submitted, moving uneasily about the place, but busy, folding things and putting them away. He ran upstairs to wash. She could hear him overhead, splashing, rubbing, and brushing.
When he came down again she was sitting on the sofa with her hands clasped in front of her, her head bent, her eyes fixed, gazing at the floor.
"I suppose we've got to wait for Vi," he said.
"Oh yes."
They waited.
"I say, it's a quarter to nine, you know," he said, presently.
"Hungry, Ran?"
"My word! I should think I was just. D'you think she's gone to Mother and had supper there?"
"She—might have."