"I say, Ethel, it's a nice kettle of fish all o-boilin', eh?"
"Shame!" she said quietly, as she found the particular movement of
Grieg she had been looking for. She loved Grieg. He fitted into all
her moods. She played everything he composed exactly the same. She
seemed to think it soothed her. She would play some now and soothe
her mother and Alaric.
She began an impassioned movement which she played evenly and
correctly, and without any unseemly force. Alaric cried out
distractedly: "For goodness' sake stop that, Ethel! Haven't you got
any feelings? Can't you see how upset the mater is? And I am? Stop
it. There's a dear! Let's put our backs into this thing and thrash
it all out. Have a little family meetin', as it were."
Poor Mrs. Chichester repeated, as though it were some refrain:
"Ruined! At my age!"
Alaric sat on the edge of her chair and put his arm around her
shoulder and tried to comfort her.
"Don't you worry, mater," he said. "Don't worry. I'll go down and
tell 'em what I think of 'em--exactly what I think of 'em. They
can't play the fool with me. I should think NOT, indeed. Listen,
mater. You've got a SON, thank God, and one no BANK can take any
liberties with. What we put in there we've got to have out.
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