"I am eating it. I only just stopped a minute to read my letters."
"A pretty long minute, I should think. Everything's stone-cold. Why you've only got one letter! Who's it from?"
"Mr. Sant. He wants me to go to Rome with him."
"Oh mother, you can't you know."
"I'm sure I don't know anything of the kind. In fact I think I will go. There'll be a party of us."
"Well, if it's a party—— But what's going to become of the house?"
"I'm sure Big Ann is capable of looking after the house, Amelia. If I can't have a fortnight's holiday now and then I might just as well go and drown myself. I'm sick to death of Oriel Street. I want to go about a bit. Yes, I will go. And the house must get on the best way it can. Anybody would think you were all a pack of machines that wouldn't work if I'm not here to wind you up."
"Oh, all right, mother, go and have a fling by all means if you like. But what about the cost? I'm sure I can't help you as long as I only get these three-guinea engagements. And I simply can't wear that eau-de-nil again. The bodice is quite gone under the arms."
"You're not asked to help. Mr. Sant pays all expenses. And, Amelia, if I can do what I'm going to try to do, you shall have as many new frocks as you can wear. We're going to see the Pope."
"Going to see the Pope?"