“That’s not the point.”
“Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill, my chick.”
“I’m not making anything. The simple fact is that the grey dresses are piggy.”
Mrs. Henderson flushed deeply, twining and untwining her silk-gloved fingers.
“She thinks that’s ‘gross exaggeration.’ That’s what she wants to say,” pondered Miriam wearily.
They turned into Langham Place.
She glanced to see whether her mother realised where they were.
“Look, we’re in the West End, mother! Oh, I’m not going to think about Banbury Park till it begins!”
10
They drew up near the Maison Nouvelle.