Philip did not answer, and in a moment she broke into a sob.
“You don’t think I do it because I like it, do you?”
“Oh, my dear,” he cried. “I’m so sorry, I’m so awfully sorry.”
“That’ll do me a fat lot of good.”
Again Philip found nothing to say. He was desperately afraid of saying anything which she might take for a reproach or a sneer.
“Where’s the baby?” he asked at last.
“I’ve got her with me in London. I hadn’t got the money to keep her on at Brighton, so I had to take her. I’ve got a room up Highbury way. I told them I was on the stage. It’s a long way to have to come down to the West End every day, but it’s a rare job to find anyone who’ll let to ladies at all.”
“Wouldn’t they take you back at the shop?”
“I couldn’t get any work to do anywhere. I walked my legs off looking for work. I did get a job once, but I was off for a week because I was queer, and when I went back they said they didn’t want me any more. You can’t blame them either, can you? Them places, they can’t afford to have girls that aren’t strong.”
“You don’t look very well now,” said Philip.