"Who runs the house, I'd like to know, and looks after everything inside, and does the sewing?
This outfit of mine, for instance?
And her own outfit ?" "Oh, Nora," protested Kathleen, the colour rising in her face.
"Did you make your own costume ?" inquired Mr.Romayne.
"She did that," said Nora, "and mine and mother's, and she makes father's working shirts." "Oh, Nora, stop, please.

You know I do very little." "She makes the butter as well." "They're a pair," said Sam in a low growl, but perfectly audible to the company, "a regular pair, eh, Joe ?" "Sure t'ing," replied Joe, threatening to go off again into laughter, but held in check by a glance from Nora.
For an hour they lingered over the meal.

Then Nora, jumping up quickly, took Mrs.Waring-Gaunt with her to superintend the work at the dump, leaving Mr.Romayne reclining on the grass smoking his pipe in abandoned content, while Kathleen busied herself clearing away and washing up the dishes.
"May I help ?" inquired Mr.Romayne, when the others had gone.
"Oh, no," replied Kathleen.

"Just rest where you are, please; just take it easy; I'd really rather you would, and there's nothing to do." "I am not an expert at this sort of thing," said Mr.Romayne, "but at least I can dry dishes.

I learned that much on the veldt." "In South Africa?
You were in the war ?" replied Kathleen, giving him a towel.
"Yes, I had a go at it." "It must have been terrible--to think of actually killing men." "It is not pleasant," replied Romayne, shrugging his shoulders, "but it has to be done sometimes." "Oh, do you think so?
It does not seem as if it should be necessary at any time," said the girl with great earnestness.