“We couldn’t think of being separated, Miss Hull,” she said, with one of her winning smiles. “You see, we found each other only a little over a year ago, and we’ve such a lot of time to make up.”
“But if you were separated you’d get to know the girls so much better,” Miss Hull’s soft Southern drawl protested. “I’ve planned for each of you to room with an old girl. I’m sure it’s the better way.”
Miss Hull was an imperious woman, statuesque in figure, a smooth level brow, flashing dark eyes and a mass of wavy gray hair, piled high on her head. When she said a thing she expected instant submission. She was surprised when Phyllis, still with her charming smile, but with a note of firmness in her voice, replied:
“But you see, Miss Hull, we should both be very unhappy. We’re twins, you know, and that makes a difference.”
Miss Hull could not deny the note of decision in her voice, and like all broad-minded and imperious people, she admired anyone who had those same qualities in common with her.
She did not speak down to Phyllis, but rather as to an equal, when she replied:
“Very well, you will room together. I suppose being twins does make a difference,” she added laughingly.
Phyllis thanked her, and with a maid to guide them, they went upstairs to a big room, with long French windows, one of which opened onto a tiny balcony. They sat down in comfortable wicker chairs and stared at each other.
“Oh, Phyl, you are magnificent!” Janet exclaimed. “I never was so petrified in my life. Miss Hull is such a masterful sort of person that she silenced me with a glance.”
Phyllis tossed her head.