Mr. Hazlewood smiled sardonically; he did not admire Babba's wit.
"This time to-morrow then," said Ora, ringing the bell. "Oh, and take your agreement with you; I won't have the odious thing here." She flung it at Babba, who caught it cleverly. "I couldn't live in the room with it," she said.
Ora waited till she heard the house door shut upon her visitors. "Thank goodness!" she cried then, as she sank into a chair opposite Irene. "How good of you to come and see me," she went on.
Irene was hard on her search; she did not allow herself to be turned aside by mere civilities, however charming might be the cordiality with which they were uttered.
"Are you really going to America?" she asked.
Ora's face grew plaintive again; she thought that she had got rid of that question till the next day.
"Oh, I suppose so. Yes. I don't know, I'm sure." She leant forward towards her friend. "I suppose you're awfully happy, aren't you, Irene?"
Irene smiled; she had no intention of casting doubts on her bliss in her present company.
"Then do be kind to me, because I'm awfully miserable. Now you're looking as if you were going to tell me it was my own fault. Please don't, dear. That doesn't do any good at all."
"Not the least I'm sure, to you," said Irene Bowdon.