Louise's lips closed.
"I call you the limit, you know! 'English people don't!' With a red-hot tarradiddle on your little white conscience all the time. You're a good pupil, Louise."
Louise, blushing, turned suspiciously.
"What are you at now!" she demanded.
"I was thinking of Clarissa." Cynthia smiled with intention.
"Clare, kid! Clare! Sweet Clare! Sugar-sweet Clare! Our dear Dame Double!"
"I wish you wouldn't talk like that," said Louise, in her lowest voice. "You know I hate it."
"All right, honey!" Cynthia rolled lazily on to her side and pulled a box of chocolates from the shelf beside her.
The room was quiet for a while.