“That’s all.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me the reason? Oh, very well—you leave it to my guessing? Of course it’s quite evident he’s hopelessly in love with you, and never ventured to speak for fear of betraying his passion. But, encouraged by your advances——”
“Molly, go on with that arm, and don’t be a vulgar little donkey.”
Molly obeyed. Presently: “Cross-patch,” she said.
“I’m not,” said Nina, “but I want to work, and I like you best when you’re not vulgar.”
“You’re very rude.”
Molly’s wounded pride, besieged by her curiosity, held out for five minutes. Then: “Did you talk to him much?”
“Heaps.”
“All the way down?”