"Was I absorbed in her?"
"Every letter that you wrote from school rang with 'Magda' all through. I don't notice her name so often now. But then—you are no longer a school-girl. Do you like her as much as ever?"
"I'm very fond of Magda—really. There's so much that is fine in her. I think she's going through a sort of phase that girls do go through—she's unsettled, and never certain what to do with herself or her time. But she will come through. She does really wish to be useful."
"You might be King Solomon, my dear! It wasn't your way in the past to analyse her, as if you were her granny. You tried to give me the impression that she was a perfectly angelic being. I have always wanted to make her acquaintance."
"So you can. There she is!"
"Not coming here! What a plague! I did think I should have you to myself for this one afternoon."
Bee did not echo the regret.
Magda entered briskly, looking her best. She had for once arranged well her mass of reddish-gold hair; and the quick walk had given her a bright colour; and her golden-brown eyes had their happy light, often lacking in less cheerful moods.
"Bee—" she cried, and stopped at sight of a stranger. "Oh, I forgot!" As it recurred to her mind that Bee had expected a friend.
Bee performed the introduction, and the two shook hands, each critically scanning the other.