Grisel nodded, and her utter indifference struck the other girl.
"Funny," she remarked shrewdly, "how easily one gets used to things. You were nearly off your head about that ruby at first, weren't you, and now you don't care a bit about it."
"Oh, yes I do. It is very beautiful, but—well, that's just as you say. One does get used to things—some things that is," she added sombrely.
Jenny, whose little cream-coloured face was peppered all over with large pale freckles, like the specks in eau de vie de Dantzig, added a handful of peas to the pan, that glittered like silver in the bright sun.
"It's grand that people do get used to things," she reflected, screwing up her little nose, "almost as good as getting over things. Oh, Grisel, do you remember how miserable poor Olly used to be about you?"
"Nonsense! He thought he was, but he wasn't, really."
"You don't know. He was frightfully unhappy. Mother and I were worried to death——"
Grisel laughed. "Poor fellow. But anyhow it didn't last very long, did it?"
"No, but it would have done," Jenny agreed with a shrewd shake of her curls, "if Dorothy had not come along."
"We were going over to see 'Dorothy,' if she had come to Scarborough."