"I expect he's tired of us," said Margaret.
"You don't really think so," Pauline contradicted. "You're much, much, much too conceited to think so really."
Margaret laughed.
"You don't mind a bit when I call you conceited," Pauline went on, challenging her sister. "I believe you're so conceited that you're proud even of being conceited. Why doesn't Guy come and see us, I wonder?"
"Why should he come?" Monica asked, rather severely. "Perhaps he's doing some work for a change."
"I believe he's hurt," Pauline declared.
"Hurt?" repeated her sisters.
"Yes, because you were both so frightfully critical of his room. Oh, I am glad that Mother and I aren't critical."
"Well, if he's hurt because I said he oughtn't to have an image of Our Lady on his mantelshelf," said Monica, "I really don't think we need bother any more about him. Was I to encourage him in such stupid little Gothic affectations?"
"Oh, oh!" cried Pauline. "I think he's frightened of you, Monica dear, and of your long sentences, for I'm sure I am."