"What sort of a groove?" asked Mary.
"Well, all this village work and so on. And sticking so closely to your house and everything, as if you were one of your own aunts."
Mary held herself well in hand.
"I thought I had explained all that before," she said patiently. "You see we've had to economize a lot because of the mortgage. We only started even having a maid last year, though we could have two easily in that house. And I do a lot of the garden myself, though it's really too big for me to manage. You know the mortgage had to be paid."
"That old mortgage seems to have been the bane of your life, Mary. Thank goodness it's paid now and you can forget it. You ought to play bridge and dance. Can you dance? You look as if you could. You move rippingly!" Ursula hummed a few bars from a popular waltz. "And then—I know it sounds awful cheek on my part, but couldn't you do something about your clothes?"
"My clothes?"
"Yes. You know, of course, I understand it's been awfully difficult for you. And we all think you've been perfectly splendid, the way you've toiled and pinched to pay those beastly debts, but now they're all done with couldn't you go to some one rather more enterprising for your coats and skirts? Of course I get mine in town, but I dare say you wouldn't want to go so far. Still, there's York and Hull and Scarborough. Oh, lots of places where there must be a decent tailor."
"I dare say. I can't afford it though. We're not millionaires yet. John must get some capital laid by."
"Still, I don't see why you shouldn't do things, especially as you haven't any children to keep you at home. Now I'm quite prepared to settle down for a bit after April but you really might be a bit more normal. Of course, it's been bad luck, having to save such a lot and all that, but it's all over now. You mustn't get in a groove."
Mary smiled, a queer, twisted smile.