Milly plumped into a chair irritably.
"How ever am I to know how I did my hair if I can't remember? Please do it for me."
Tims smiled sardonically.
"I'll lend you my hair," she said; "the second best. But do your hair! You really are as mad as a hatter."
Milly shrugged her shoulders.
"You can't? Then I keep it like this," she said.
An argument ensued. Tims left the room to try and find a photograph of Milly as she had been.
When she returned she found her friend standing in absorbed contemplation of a book in her hand.
"This is Greek, isn't it?" she asked, holding it up. Her face wore a little frown as of strained attention.
"Right you are," shrieked Tims in accents of relief. "Greek it is. Can you read it?"