Peg dragged a tangle from her thick hair with a little vicious gesture.
"There's plenty worse," she said mechanically.
Faith tried hard to see her friend's face, but it was hidden by the mop of hair hanging about it.
"You've altered your opinion of him then," she said offendedly. "Sometimes I believe you really like him."
"He's been very decent to me, anyway," Peg answered brusquely. "And it's a pretty rotten game for him, paying out for us all the time, and not a ha'porth of thanks, or anything! How'd you like it?"
"I never thought you were a turn-coat," Faith said shortly.
She cried herself to sleep. Everyone was against her. The twins had forgotten her, and now Peg was condemning her ... life was a hateful thing.
Forrester came into the flat a day or two later and found Peg there alone. He was tired and depressed, and answered her cheery greeting shortly.
She knew that his eyes wandered round the room in search of his wife, though he asked no questions, and Peg said: