"Well, you see, uncle and I haven't quite decided whether he is to have his way or I am to have mine; we were both thinking about it when you happened to call." And then, as there was a little pause: "Are people talking about us much?"
She did not care whether people were talking much or little, but she had an obscure desire to shift ever so slightly the direction of the conversation.
"I've only been here a day or two, so I can scarcely judge," said Sarah. "But Lilian came in from the art school this morning with an armful of chatter."
"Let me see, I forget," Helen said. "Is Lilian the youngest, or the next to the youngest?"
"My dearest child, Lilian is the youngest but one, of course; but she's grown up now—naturally."
"What! When I saw her last, that day when she was with you at Knype, she had a ribbon in her hair, and she looked ten."
"She's eighteen. And haven't you heard?"
"Heard what?"
"Do you mean to say you've been in Bursley a week and more, and haven't heard? Surely you know Andrew Dean?"
"I know Andrew Dean," said Helen; and she said nothing else.