“Yes; quite a little, isn’t it. Poor dear.”
Eddy asked hopefully, “Would he do us an article for Unity from the shop walker’s point of view, about shop life, and the relations between customers and shop people?”
Billy shook his head. “I’m sure he wouldn’t. He’d want to write you a poem about something quite different instead. He hates the shop, and he won’t write prose; he finds it too homely. And if he did, it would be horrible stuff, full of commencing, and hose, and words like that.”
“And corsets, and the next pleasure, and kindly walk this way. It might be rather delightful really. I should try to get him to, Eddy.”
“I think I will. We rather want the shopman’s point of view, and it’s not easy to get.”
They were passing Chiswick Mall. Molly saw there the house she preferred.
“Look, Eddy. That one with wistaria over it, and the balcony. What’s it called? The Osiers. What a nice name. Do let’s stop and find out if we can have it.”
“Well, someone obviously lives there; in fact, I see someone on the balcony. He might think it odd of us, do you think?”
“But perhaps he’s leaving. Or perhaps he’d as soon live somewhere else, if we found a nice place for him. I wonder who it is?”
“I don’t know. We might find out who his doctor is, and get him to tell him it’s damp and unhealthy. It looks fairly old.”