Each man in turns paid visits to my flat, and discussed his troubles at length. Mr Thorold’s were mostly financial. What could he do to cut down expenses? Would I recommend sending the children to live in the country? Ridiculously cheap houses could be had, if one did not mind living miles from a station. He himself must, of course, remain in town; but in a cheap boarding-house he could manage to live on very little—say a hundred a year—and when he took a holiday he could “run down to the country”. It would be good for the children.
“While it lasted,” I said drily. “Their father might live—with luck—for a year or eighteen months. It seems hardly worth while having the expense of a removal for such a short time.”
He sighed, looked for a moment as if he were going to declare that he would be glad to be out of it, then pulled himself together and said:—
“Well, but I must pull in somehow to pay for all these extra expenses! Have you anything to suggest?”
“You might let this flat furnished for a few months in spring. The porters tell me there are tenants to be found at that time. Odd, isn’t it, that the season should affect ‘Weltham Mansions’? It’s the lap of the waves, I suppose, but it seems a long way to flow. I could help you to find cheap country quarters, and you could fit in your own holiday at the same time, and so save travelling expenses. Lazing about in a garden may not be exciting, but it’s the rest you need. I knew a very tired man who went off for a golfing week with a friend. His wife told me he took a fortnight to recover. She said so to the doctor, and he said, ‘Of course! What did you expect? It would have been better if he had gone to bed.’”
He shrugged impatiently.
“Maybe it is quite true. I suppose it is. But when a man has only one fortnight in the year, he might be allowed to enjoy it in his own way! It’s an idea, though—letting the flat. Thanks for the suggestion. I’ll speak to an agent.”
Mr Hallett rested his big shoulders against my cushions, and said in his low, grave tones:—
“You are a woman—you understand these things. Is there any way in which I can help? It’s pretty tough to see an old friend worried to death, and just sit and look on—but Thorold’s proud, and it’s difficult to interfere. It seems a cruel thing that illness should fall so heavily upon the middle classes. The rich are independent, the poor have hospitals; but a man in Thorold’s position is no sooner through with the mental torture than he is up against an army of bills. It seems that Billie is bound to keep his nurses for several weeks longer. That’s a big item in itself.”
It was! Often during these last weeks I had thought to myself what a grand occupation it would be for an independent woman to train as a nurse, and then give one or two doctors leave to call her in to serve—without payment—in cases like the present, where need was great and means were small. I went off into a day-dream in which I saw myself, in cap and apron, acting as ministering angel to the suffering middle class, to be roused by Mr Hallett’s voice saying tentatively:—