“It’s a rest to be alone sometimes.”
At first Marian had felt inclined to be angry at this woman having thrust herself upon her, but curiosity succeeded. She had never spoken to one of her class before—of her own class, it flashed upon her—and to do so might prove interesting, possibly also instructive.
“Rest? Oh, yes, I suppose so, but I hate resting. That’s the worst of being kept by an old josser, he neither gives you any fun himself nor gives you much chance of getting any with anyone else. But I don’t do so badly. The certainty of it is the decent part of it. Thank God, he goes away sometimes, and then I just make up for lost time, don’t I! Your George——”
“My——!”
“That’s his name, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“He’s all right, just enough and not too much, I should say. You’re only a beginner, and don’t know yet what we have to put up with and what we become. Oh! We’re a lively lot, some of us, regular devils. I steer clear of them as much as I can, but one must talk to a woman sometimes. At least I must. I hope you don’t mind my coming in this way?”
“Not a bit. Another cup of tea?”
“No, thanks, but if I could have a B. and S. I’d not say ‘No.’ ”
Marian rang and bade the maid bring the necessaries.