"She was different at school. I don't understand her to-day—or what made her so. Unless—it is something perhaps that her mother has said."
"Probably. Mrs. Royston may not intend to call, till she has hunted out our antecedents."
"It may be that, mother."
"But after being your friend for two years, she might have said enough to satisfy even Burwood squeamishness."
"Yes—only—I never did tell Magda much."
"Not enough, perhaps."
"Mother, you have always hated snobbishness. And I know how you laughed at Miss Norris, for dragging in her rich relations at every corner."
"And you are your mother's own daughter." Mrs. Major's small dark eyes, clever and deep-set, rested lovingly on the girl. "However, one must take people as they are. Never mind. It will all come right. I have no doubt that there is a finer side to Magda Royston—and that this is a mere episode; not her fault."
"No. Only, I don't really think—if I had been in her place this afternoon—that I could have done just so!"
"I'm perfectly sure that you could not, Bee." Mrs. Major spoke with decision.