Nancy jumped the implied question and answer. "Well, it was bound to come sooner or later," she said. "With both of us, I mean; not you only. There is no doubt we possess great personal attractions. But I don't think you have much to boast about, if it's only Bobby Trench. What is he like? Has he changed at all since he came here?"
"Oh, he is just as silly and conceited as ever; but love has softened him."
"I shouldn't want him softened, myself. He'd be sillier than ever. Tell me all about it, Joan. How did he behave?"
Joan told her all about it; and the recital would not have pleased Mr. Robert Trench, if he had heard it. With those cool young eyes she had remorselessly regarded the antics of the attracted male, and found them only absurd. But she had not put a stop to them.
"You know, Nancy," she said guilelessly, "it's all very well to talk as they do in books about a man being able to make a girl like him if he keeps at her long enough; but I am quite sure Bobby Trench could never make me like him—in that way—if he tried for a hundred years. Still, it is rather nice to feel that one is grown up at last."
"The fact of the matter is, you have been flirting with Bobby Trench," said Nancy; "and you ought to be ashamed of yourself."
But Joan indignantly denied this. "What I did," she said, "was to prevent his flirting with me."
There was a moment's pause. Then Nancy said unconcernedly, "I suppose I told you that John Spence came here."
Joan turned round sharply, and looked at her. "No, you didn't," she said.
After another moment's pause, she said, "You know you didn't."