Rose blushed once more. Was the girl asking her to be her friend? How could she be friends with a lady like her? Simon had once seemed to be friends with a rich fellow. He had come for dinner. Probably someone he did things with for money. There was a strange connection begging to be made, but Rose couldn't figure out why that vague memory suddenly seemed so important. She drew a sharp breath when the other girl put iodine on the wound, but then she wrapped it and the pain was gone. Why was some rich girl tending to her? It should be the other way round.

"Thank you... Oh but I'm sure you must have better things to do than... befriend servants..." Did she? What did rich girls do?" The daughters of the house she had served in before never seemed to be doing anything but have tea, sit around and draw a little.