“I slept badly,” said Nina laconically.
“And I’m the anodyne? Thanks.”
“Oh, no; merely an antidote.”
“For what?”
“Myself. I’ve got the blues.”
“You! Impossible.”
“Oh, yes. It’s quite true. I’m quite wretched.”
“Dressmaker or milliner?”
“Neither. Just bored, I think. You know I’ve been out five years now. Think of it! And I’m twenty-four. Isn’t that enough to make an angel weep?”
“It’s too sad to mention,” said Mrs. Pennington. “You used to be such a nice little thing, too.”