Anne leaned back carelessly, resting, propped on one hand. "See. You know I'm right, already."
"You're not!"
Anne shrugged. "Honey, tell me that tomorrow night."
"I better go take my cake out," Mary said. She fled the room in a swirl of shimmering glastic.
Anne sneered, "I don't see why Miss Bestris puts up with her the way she does."
"You're jealous," June said quietly.
Anne did not answer.
"Mary's decent," Adele said. "Maybe that's why. She's from the sticks, and her parents still come to see her on visiting days, and there's something about her so—so innocent. Maybe that's why Miss Bestris likes her."
June said, "I think she's better than the rest of us. I think Miss Bestris feels sorry for her in a way."
"Don't make me laugh," Anne said, facing June. "The only one that'll ever feel sorry for her is herself!"