"Isn't he there to pay the bills?"
Delia's face shewed a little impatience.
"You're so busy, dear, that I am afraid you forget all I tell you about my own affairs. But I did tell you that my guardian had trustingly paid eight hundred pounds into the bank to last me till the New Year, for house and other expenses—without asking me to promise anything either!"
"Well, now, you are going to let us have £500. Is there any difficulty?"
"None—except that the ordinary bills I don't pay, and can't pay, will now all go in to my guardian, who will of course be curious to know what I have done with the money. Naturally there'll be a row."
"Oh, a row!" said Gertrude Marvell, indifferently. "It's your own money, Delia. Spend it as you like!"
"I intend to," said Delia. "Still—I do rather wish I'd given him notice. He may think it a mean trick."
"Do you care what he thinks?"
"Not—much," said Delia slowly. "All the same, Gertrude"—she threw her head back—"he is an awfully good sort."
Gertrude shrugged her shoulders.