making a rough sketch, you know. Do you draw!"
"No!" she said with a decisive shake of the head. "I've never gone in for that. I can play the piano, though—that's what I go in for. I wish they'd a piano here—I was disappointed when I found they hadn't—I've never been in a house without a piano before."
"You don't live here, then?" asked Wedgwood, going on with his sketching. "This isn't your home?"
"Me—live here? No—I live in London—Tooting Common. My word, no—I shouldn't like to live here. Miles away from anywhere! I'd no idea it was such a lonely place. No—I just came on a visit—came back with my aunt for a few days after she'd been stopping with us at Tooting. She thought it would do me good—country air and all that. But I don't know—I think London air's as good as this, any day!"
"I daresay!" agreed Wedgwood. "Fine air down Tooting Common way—used to live that side myself once. That your aunt I saw just now?"
"Aunt Janet, yes, Mrs. Clagne, her name is. Mr. Mortover's housekeeper. That was Mr. Mortover you saw, too. He's just going to buy a motor-car. A lot of money's coming to him
