Presently, "Just look at this dressing-table, Louise! Fancy such a piece of furniture for a child! Ridiculous!"
Gwendolyn cocked her yellow head to one side—after the manner of her canary.
"Bad taste." Louise joined her companion. "Crystal, if you please! Must've cost a fabulous sum."
One or two articles were moved on the dresser. Then, "Poor little girl!" observed the other woman. "Rich, but—"
Gwendolyn puckered her brows gravely. Was the speaker referring to her? Clasping her hands tight, she leaned forward a little, straining to catch every syllable. As a rule when gossip or criticism was talked in her hearing, it was insured against being understood by the use of strange terms, spellings, winks, nods, shrugs, or sudden stops at the most important point. But now, with herself hidden, was there not a likelihood of plain speech?
It came.
The voice went on: "This is the first time you've met the mother, isn't it?"
"I think so,"—indifferently. "Who is she, anyhow?"
"Nobody."
Gwendolyn stared.