Milly looked up from her roses to study a picture of distraction.
“You odd creature.” A toss of a sagacious head.
The charge was admitted frankly, freely, and fully.
“I don’t understand you in the least.” A wrinkling of a pert nose.
“I don’t understand myself.”
Milly looked at her wonderingly. “I really don’t. You are quite beyond me. If you were actually afraid of these people, which I don’t for a moment think you are, one might begin to see what’s at the back of your absurd mind.”
“Why don’t you think I’m afraid of them?” Mary in spite of herself was a little amused by the downrightness.
The question brought her right up against an eye of very honest admiration.
“Because, Miss Lawrence, it simply isn’t in you to be afraid of anybody.”
Princess Bedalia shook a rueful head. “You say that because you don’t know all. I’m in a mortal funk of Bridport House.”