She decided that their future meetings should be at his own house. Mrs.
Phillips's only complaint was that she knocked at the door too seldom.
"I don't know what I should do without you, I really don't," confessed
the grateful lady. "If ever I become a Prime Minister's wife, it's you I
shall have to thank. You've got so much courage yourself, you can put
the heart into him. I never had any pluck to spare myself."
She concluded by giving Joan a hug, accompanied by a sloppy but heartfelt
kiss.
She would stand behind Phillips's chair with her fat arms round his neck,
nodding her approval and encouragement; while Joan, seated opposite,
would strain every nerve to keep her brain fixed upon the argument, never
daring to look at poor Phillips's wretched face, with its pleading,
apologetic eyes, lest she should burst into hysterical laughter. She
hoped she was being helpful and inspiring! Mrs. Phillips would assure
her afterwards that she had been wonderful. As for herself, there were
periods when she hadn't the faintest idea about what she was talking.
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