"Oh, I don't know. Heaps of things. Perhaps—more lazy than busy." She tried to laugh, but could not face the wistful eyes bent upon her. "Oh, bother—why must you be so inquisitorial?"
"Am I? Well—if you would rather not tell me—"
"I can't. I've nothing to tell."
"Are you sure? Things haven't seemed right. If you would rather drop the subject, I must let you. Only, if I have hurt you in any way, or if you have thought me unkind, I am sorry."
"Bee! It isn't—"
Magda choked over the words. She hardly knew what to say; for the contrast between herself and Bee was not pleasing to vanity.
"It isn't what?"
"It's not you! If either of us is wrong, it is I—not you!"
She remembered afterwards that Bee did not contradict the assertion.
"Anyhow, it need not put us apart."