She could not contain her pride in her new home. Alexandra, unable to help contrasting it with her own poor room, liked its light daintiness, its exquisite tidiness. Maggy would have delighted in doing the whole work of a cottage of her own in the country. She was by nature domesticated. The personal touch was everywhere visible about the flat, especially to Alexandra who knew her. Maggy had a mania for crochet work. It was to be seen in all directions. Towels, mats, chair covers, everything that could have crochet sewn on to it was so ornamented. A large open workbox, crammed to overflowing with a medley of fancy-work, testified to the hours she gave to her needle and the many directions in which she made use of it. A mongrel terrier gave them a violent welcome as they came in, and a dissipated-looking cat blinked at them lazily from the sofa where it lay on a cushion. Maggy introduced the two animals. "This is Mr. Onions," she said. "I saw him eating one out of a dustbin and brought him here. He was starved, Lexie. Now he lives on the fat of the land, like me. And he’s no breed, like me. Neither is Mrs. Slightly. She’s Slightly because she’s slightly soiled, and never will clean herself, and she’s called ’Mrs.’ because she’s not married, but ought to be. Isn’t it curious, Lexie? Slightly and Onions are absolute gutter-snipes, but they’ve taken to cushions and cream as if they’d never known anything else. Fred can’t bear them. He wanted me to have a Pekinese with a pedigree, but _I_ haven’t a pedigree, so I don’t want an animal with one. Slightly and Onions are such grateful devils, too. Would you really like a bath now? After you’ve had it we’ll have tea. China tea at four and six a pound, my dear! Think of that! I believe I could drink tea dust and enjoy it if I knew it was expensive." While Alexandra luxuriated in her bath, reckless for once of the quantity of water she used, Maggy took the opportunity of providing something exceptional in the way of tea. It began with poached eggs and finished with strawberries and cream. Maggy was not a bit hungry; she had lunched late with Woolf. But she knew Alexandra had been denying herself food and would eat heartily so long as she could do so in company. So she crammed loyally, ignoring the physical discomfort it inflicted on her. Finally she put Alexandra into the most comfortable of her chairs and drew another close to it. Onions lay at her feet, Slightly was curled on her lap. "Now tell me what you’ve been doing to get an engagement," she said. "There’s nothing to tell. No luck anywhere, that’s all." Maggy sighed. "I wish you could live here. That’s impossible, I know. But why be so proud? Let me lend you a few pounds." "I can’t. I’ve not used the money you left. I meant to give it back to you, but I forgot." "You make me angry. Isn’t my money good enough? I’m sorry, Lexie. You’ve got such cracked ideas." Alexandra decided to be frank.