She seemed to hesitate, and then pecked little
kiss off my cheek.
"You're a man, George," she said, as she released me, and continued to
look at me for a while.
Their menage was one of a very common type in London. They occupied what
is called the dining-room floor of a small house, and they had the use
of a little inconvenient kitchen in the basement that had once been
scullery. The two rooms, bedroom behind and living room in front, were
separated by folding-doors that were never now thrown back, and indeed,
in the presence of a visitor, not used at all. There was of course no
bathroom or anything of that sort available, and there was no water
supply except to the kitchen below. My aunt did all the domestic work,
though she could have afforded to pay for help if the build of the place
had not rendered that inconvenient to the pitch of impossibility. There
was no sort of help available except that of indoor servants, for whom
she had no accommodation. The furniture was their own; it was partly
secondhand, but on the whole it seemed cheerful to my eye, and my aunt's
bias for cheap, gay-figured muslin had found ample score.
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