In a way he could not help feeling annoyed with April. If she had not told her mother nothing would have happened.
“Oh, but how silly,” she said, when he told her about it next day. “I do wish I had been there. It must have been awfully funny!”
Roland had not considered it in that light and hastened to tell her so.
“I felt a most appalling fool. It was beastly. I can’t think why you told your mother anything about it.”
She looked up quickly, surprised by the note of impatience in his voice.
“But, Roland, dear, what else could I do? She asked me and I couldn’t tell a lie. Could I?”
“I don’t know,” said Roland. And he began to walk backwards and forwards, up and down the room. “I suppose you couldn’t help it, but.... Oh, well, what did you say to her?”
“Nothing much. She asked me.... Oh, but, Roland, do sit down,” she pleaded. “I can’t talk when you’re walking up and down the room.”
“All right,” said Roland, sitting down. “Go on.”
“Well, she asked me if I liked you and I said that we were great friends, and then she asked if we weren’t more than friends.”