"She looked at me straight, and said: 'Good-bye, Norman,' with a little half smile."
Pamela considered this. "That was the end, then," she said.
"Yes, but what an end, Pam! It was the beginning too. You can see what a thrill it was, can't you?"
"Yes, I think I can," she said slowly.
"Mind you, this was the very first time. Up to then there hadn't been a word or a sign. That's what makes it something to remember, you know. Oh, Pam! It's a heavenly feeling being in love. And it's such a score having somebody like you to tell it to. I don't know who I should have told if I hadn't had you—my tailor, I dare say; I shouldn't have been able to keep it to myself, and I owe him something which it isn't quite convenient to pay just yet. I told her about you, you know."
"Did you?"
"Oh, yes. I always do talk about you when I get really confidential."
"What did you tell her? And what did she say?"
"She was very sweet about you, and said you were just the sort of girl she would like to have for a friend. A lot of her friends were such ninnies."
"I never meet that sort of girl now," said Pamela with a sigh. "If only I hadn't had flu when Auntie Eleanor asked me to stay with you in London, I suppose I should have met her."