It was the most extraordinary conversation, and perhaps the most extraordinary part of it was that she found it quite impossible to be angry. Strangers oughtn’t to speak to you like that. He didn’t feel like a stranger. He broke all the rules and he broke down all the fences, but it wasn’t for himself, it was for her. He was angry because she was tired-because there was too much china and too much furniture and her work was never done. It was so long since anyone had cared whether she was tired or not that she was shaken, but not with anger. She felt a weakness and a warmth, and got no nearer to an answer than a faint tremulous smile.

He said, “Why do you do it?” and she lifted her head and spoke gently.

“Most women have a good deal to do in their houses nowadays, you know. It doesn’t hurt one to be tired at the end of a day’s work.”

“It hurts to be given a hopeless task and keep at it till it breaks you! Three quarters of that stuff should be put away! Why don’t you say so and go on strike until it’s done?”

The smile was gone. She straightened herself a little.

“Please, please-you mustn’t. My aunt has been most kind in taking Jenny in, and it has meant everything for her. We really had no claim. Anything I can do in return-”

“I know, I know-and it’s not my business, and all the rest of the conventionalities! Let’s take them as said and get down to brass tacks. It is really impossible for you to have a sensible talk with Miss Crewe? After all, she can probably remember how many women it used to take to do what she expects you to take on single-handed.”

“It was a different world, a different life. She hasn’t the least idea how long anything takes to do. There was a cook, and a kitchenmaid, and a between maid, and a woman up from the village three times a week to scrub, and a butler, and a parlourmaid, and two housemaids. And everything went like clockwork.”