Clare gurgled.
"This is priceless. Did she tell you? I wonder she had the face."
Henrietta grew pink.
"No. Cynthia herself. She—er—offered me a slice. She had the impertinence—the entirely American impertinence—to come to my room—after midnight—to borrow a tooth-glass. To eat ices in. It appeared that they were short of receptacles."
"Ices?" came the chorus.
"Her mother provided them, I believe. In a pail," said Henrietta stiffly.
"Did you lend the tooth-glass?" asked Clare.
Henrietta coughed.
"It was difficult to refuse. She had bare feet. I did not wish her to catch cold."
Clare turned away abruptly. Her shoulders shook.