“I should so like to have a room all to myself,” added Veronica.
“It would be a room!” commented Robin.
“It wouldn’t have your hairpins sticking up all over the bed, anyhow,” murmured Veronica dreamily.
“I like that!” said Robin; “why—”
“You’re harder than I am,” said Veronica.
“I should wish you to have a room, Veronica,” I said. “My fear is that in place of one untidy bedroom in the house—a room that makes me shudder every time I see it through the open door; and the door, in spite of all I can say, generally is wide open—”
“I’m not untidy,” said Robin, “not really. I know where everything is in the dark—if people would only leave them alone.”
“You are. You’re about the most untidy girl I know,” said Dick.
“I’m not,” said Robin; “you don’t see other girls’ rooms. Look at yours at Cambridge. Malooney told us you’d had a fire, and we all believed him at first.”
“When a man’s working—” said Dick.