It was as if she had not heard that Nanda continued: “Well, he’s more beautiful.”
“O-oh!” cried Mrs. Brook, with a drawn-out extravagance of comment that amounted to an impugnment of her taste even by herself.
It contributed to Nanda’s quietness. “He’s one of the most beautiful people in the world.”
Her companion at this, with a quick wonder, fixed her. “DOES he, my dear, want to marry you?”
“Yes—to all sorts of ridiculous people.”
“But I mean—would you take HIM?”
Nanda, rising, met the question with a short ironic “Yes!” that showed her first impatience. “It’s so charming being liked without being approved.”
But Mrs. Brook only wanted to know. “He doesn’t approve—?”
“No, but it makes no difference. It’s all exactly right—it doesn’t matter.”
Mrs. Brook seemed to wonder, however, exactly how these things could be. “He doesn’t want you to give up anything?” She looked as if swiftly thinking what Nanda MIGHT give up.