4
Kate retired to domestic duties in the back regions.
Evie, before doing the dusting, took up the Daily Message and glanced through the feuilleton. It had been the same feuilleton for many weeks. It was always headed by a synopsis and a list of characters: 'John Hargreave, a strong, quiet man of deep feeling, to whom anything underhand is abhorrent. Valerie Lascelles, a beautiful girl of nineteen, who loves John. Sylvia, her sister, exactly like Valerie in face, but not in character, for she is shallow and hard and lives abroad, the widow of a foreign count. Cyril Arbuthnot, a smart man about town, unscrupulous in his methods, who sticks at nothing.' No wonder Evie found it interesting.
Then she flicked competently round the drawing-room with a duster, calling to Florence to clear away quick, because she wanted the table for cutting out.
Alix did the lamps in the pantry.
Mrs. Frampton did accounts and wrote to Aunt Nellie, in the dining-room.
Florence cleared away, also in the dining-room.
Kate looked in in her hat and coat, with the little red books that come from shops on a Saturday morning.
'I'd better get in a new tongue, I suppose, mother. The one we have will scarcely be sufficient for Sunday.'
'Yes, dear. Get one of the large ones.'