"What a plain uninteresting person!" was Magda's inward comment.
"Shouldn't have thought her the sort of girl to suit Bee!" Amy voicelessly said.
"I'm afraid I'm interrupting."
"Not at all. Do stay to tea with us. Mother is out for the afternoon." The words had no sooner passed Bee's lips than she wished them unsaid. She had carefully refrained from saying aught to Amy about Ivor's presence at the Vicarage; and Magda might bring it up. But the thing was done. Already Magda was accepting the invitation.
Bent on keeping clear of the one topic, Bee threw herself into conversation, taking the lead in an unwonted fashion, bringing up everything she could think of to interest her companions. For a time she was successful, though Amy looked curiously at her, and Magda more than once sought to introduce something of which her mind was full. Three times she tried in vain. But a slight pause at length occurred, when tea was brought in, and Magda used her chance.
"I've just been to the Vicarage, Bee. I had to leave some cards that I had been copying out for Mrs. Miles. And—"
"You are always going there now, dear, are you not?"
"Well, sometimes. Not always. I like going, and I like them. And I saw your friend. He arrived late last night."
"Did you? What will you have? Cake or bread-and-butter? Did I show you this photo of our house, Magda? It was taken the other day by a passing photographer—as a specimen of Burwood architecture." She tried to laugh.
Magda glanced casually at the proffered view. "Yes—very good. Bee, I like your friend. He is a handsome man. I never saw a handsomer, I do think. And awfully nice too!"