"What we want now," said Mona meditatively, stroking the curly red hair, "is to get back our baby face. How do we mean to set about it?"
Lucy made a little moue. "Dr Bateson said something about the south of France—such a waste of time! And Father says when I come back to London I am to live at the College Hall again."
"I am very glad to hear it. I always thought your leaving was a great mistake."
"Why, you lived in rooms yourself!"
"Oh, I! I am an old granny full of fads, and quite able to take care of myself."
"Your best friend could not deny that you are full of fads; and that reminds me, Mona, it is your innings now. I am 'clagging' to hear all about Borrowness, and the shop and your cousin. Your last letter fell very flat on expectant spirits."
Mona went leisurely back to her chair. "You see, dear," she said, "I am in rather a difficult position. It would be very amusing to give you a piquant account of my doings; but I went to Borrowness of my own free will, and even an unvarnished story of my life there would be disloyal to my cousin. Borrowness is not a pretty place. The country is flat, but the coast is simply glorious. The rocks——"
"Thanks—I don't mind taking the rocks for granted. I want to hear about your cousin and the shop."
"I will give you a rough outline of my cousin, and leave the details to your vivid imagination. She is very kind, very pious, very narrow, and very dull."
"Good Lord deliver us!" murmured Lucy gravely. "And the shop?"