"It's ridiculous," Cleopatra exclaimed; "I didn't come out until I was eighteen. You know, Edith, you and father wouldn't hear of making it a moment sooner."
"Yes, but things are a little different now," Leonetta interposed.
"It would be unfair, grossly unfair, Edith," Cleopatra protested, "if you let her come out earlier than I did. Particularly as I did my best to make you and father let me, and you both absolutely refused."
Leonetta was now gently stroking her mother's hair. She would not trust her eyes to look at her sister.
"Well, Peachy," she said, "surely you can't make a fuss about six months, whatever you say, Cleo. After all, I'll be seventeen and a half."
"Any way," Cleopatra snapped, "it won't be right."
"But what can it matter to you?" the younger girl demanded, glaring not too amiably at her sister.
Cleopatra's face coloured a little at this question.
"Oh, nothing," she replied, and she moved towards the door. "I don't care what you do."
"Where are you going to, Cleo dear?" Mrs. Delarayne enquired in a voice fraught with all the sympathy she could not openly express.