Maggie raised her brows, and spoke in an impatient voice.
“You are in no one’s way, Priscilla,” she said. “Here are my notes from the lecture. I read to the end of this page; you can make out the rest for yourself. Well, Constance, have you anything to say?”
“Not unless you want to hear me,” said Miss Field, in her dignified manner.
Maggie tried to stifle a yawn.
“Oh, my dear Connie, I’m always charmed, you know that.”
“Well, I thought I’d like to tell you that I admired the way you spoke last night.”
“Were you present?”
“No, but some friends of mine were. They repeated the whole thing verbatim.”
“Oh, you heard it second-hand. Highly coloured, no doubt, and not the least like its poor original.”
Maggie spoke with a kind of bitter, defiant sarcasm, and a delicate colour, came into Miss Field’s cheeks.