Miss Bennett's eyes clung to her.
"Eleven minutes to," said Lydia, with her eyes on the clock. "I wish you'd go, Benny."
Miss Bennett hesitated.
"I don't think you ought to see him alone. I don't think it's quite—quite nice."
"Oh, this is going to be very nice!"
"No, I mean I don't think it's safe. Suppose anything should happen."
"Should happen?" said Lydia, and for a moment she looked like the old haughty Lydia. "What could happen?"
Miss Bennett raised both her arms and let them drop with a gesture quite French, expressing that they both knew what men were.
"He might try to make love to you," she said.
The minute she had spoken she wished she had not, for Lydia's fine dark brow contracted.