'Go and see your mother, dear; go and ask her about it,' and he returned
to the racing intelligence.
Strange that a man who had not enough to live on should think he could
add to his income by backing losers. Still, such was Mr Clay's view of
life. Besides, he was just going out; he was always just going out.
She would then go and see her stepmother, who greeted her most
affectionately.
Dulcie only kept half her little income for herself at present, a
considerable advantage to a woman like Mrs Clay, who declared she was
'expected to dress up to a certain standard, though, of course, simply
during war-time.' She would kiss the girl and drag her up to her bedroom
to show her a new coat and skirt, or send the general servant up to
bring down the marvellously cheap little tea-gown that had just
come home.
Both her parents, it will be seen, were ready enough to talk to her, but
they were not prepared to listen. All the warmth and affection that she
had in her nature very naturally was concentrated on her patient.
Dulcie now sat in the window-seat, wondering what to do. She was sadly
thinking what would happen when the time came for her to leave.
Pages:
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175