it hurt.
"Ah," said Mrs.Harley softly as she went into Joan's bedroom.

"Ah.
Very nice.

You both have room to move here." But the mass of little filet lace pillows puzzled her, and she darted a quick look at the tall young thing with the inscrutable face who had ceased to be her little girl and had become her daughter.
"The sun pours in," said Joan, turning away.
Mrs.Harley noticed a door and brightened up.
"Martin's dressing room ?" she asked.

"No.

My maid's room!" Joan said.
Mrs.Harley shook her head ever so little.