Well, Nannie didn't hold with flats. To please me and to show her
open-mindedness, she went with me to look at flats, but there was a
tactless integrity about her criticism. I discovered that she
judged of everything from a nursery point of view; and when I
ventured to suggest that, as there were no children, a nursery was
not of very great importance, she said, "You never can tell." In
this instance I felt I could most distinctly tell, and wondered
whether I might too tell Nannie of something I didn't hold with.
But I didn't. I remember once long ago one of us asking Nannie if
any one could have children without being married, and Nannie
answered in a very matter of fact voice, "They can, dear, but it's
better not." Anyhow, she didn't hold with flats. "There's the
porters for one thing," she said. That, of course, settled it,
and we looked at small houses.

"I suppose you will get married one of these days," she said, as
we stood on a doorstep waiting to be let in.

"Perhaps no one will have me," I said.

"Well, they might; people marry you least expect to. Look at
Maria Dewberry; you would never have --"

The door opened, or we will presume so, as my knowledge of Maria's
movements after her surprising marriage is nil.

Looking over houses is not without excitement, and certainly not
without surprises; but I was spared the experience some unknown
person had who came one day to see our house when we all lived in
London, but happened to be away. Having a house in the country,