Robert said sympathetically that it was a big house to have on her hands unaided.
"Yes; but two things help. I am not a house-proud woman. And it is still so wonderful to have a home of our own that I am willing to put up with the disadvantages. Old Mr. Crowle was my father's cousin, but we didn't know him at all. My mother and I had always lived in a Kensington boarding-house." One corner of her mouth moved up in a wry smile. "You can imagine how popular Mother was with the residents." The smile faded. "My father died when I was very little. He was one of those optimists who are always going to be rich tomorrow. When he found one day that his speculations had not left even enough for a loaf of bread on the morrow, he committed suicide and left Mother to face things."
Robert felt that this to some extent explained Mrs. Sharpe.
"I was not trained for a profession, so my life has been spent in odd-jobs. Not domestic ones-I loathe domesticity-but helping in those lady-like businesses that abound in Kensington. Lampshades, or advising on holidays, or flowers, or bric-a-brac. When old Mr. Crowle died I was working in a tea-shop-one of those morning-coffee gossip shops. Yes, it is a little difficult."
"What is?"
"To imagine me among the tea-cups."
Robert, unused to having his mind read-Aunt Lin was incapable of following anyone's mental processes even when they were explained to her-was disconcerted. But she was not thinking of him.
"We had just begun to feel settled down, and at home, and safe, when this happened."
For the first time since she had asked his help Robert felt the stirring of partisanship. "And all because a slip of a girl needs an alibi," he said. "We must find out more about Betty Kane."
"I can tell you one thing about her. She is over-sexed."