Her eyes were full of thought.
“Tell me,” said Quentillian gently, after a silence.
“I was hoping,” said Val, with innocent eyes turned full upon him, “that Father would never know about you. It would make him so unhappy.”
(iv)
Val, in accordance with time-honoured tradition, nightly brushed out her long brown hair in her sister Flora’s bedroom.
They talked desultorily.
“Choir practice tomorrow. I wish we could have Plain Chant instead of those things....”
“Father doesn’t care for Plain Chant.”
“I know.”
“Give me a piece of ribbon, Flossie. I’ve lost all mine.”