“I think you must be a delightful uncle.”
“Now, do you, really? It really makes it seem worth doing, you know. You’d like the kids.”
“I’m sure I should.”
“They’re little sports, the lot of them.”
She found presently that he was trying to turn the conversation towards herself, and he manœuvred with more delicacy than she had imagined him to possess. She met the attempt by making a show of frankness.
“I did not like my berth, so I threw it up. Meanwhile I am trying to do a little business in paintings and fashion plates, while I look out for something else.”
“Suppose you are rather particular?”
“I don’t want to take just anything that comes, if I can help it.”
“Of course not. You’ve got brains.”
“I can’t do the ordinary things that women are supposed to do—type and write shorthand and keep books.”