Isobel pricked up her ears immediately.
"What is it?" she asked.
"You know you were wondering why she wore that short-sleeved silk blouse?"
"Yes," replied Isobel, smiling.
"You remember it amused you because it was unsuitable?"
"Yes," Isobel assented, and laughed.
"Well, Beryl only possesses two blouses in the world, at present—that silk one and another one; she wears them in turn, poor kiddy—and hates them both.... Her aunt, with whom she lived, chose them for her. She hasn't got any others, though she's going to buy some with her pocket-money now. She's very sensitive about her clothes."
"Oh," said Isobel, looking puzzled; she wondered how Pamela meant her to take the information.
"Well," said Pamela, looking straight into Isobel's eyes, so that Isobel presently began to feel vaguely uncomfortable, "I believe she has an idea that you laugh at them—and it hurts her. So I thought I'd tell you, because I know you wouldn't want to purposely hurt her."
"No, of course not. I didn't know—" began Isobel.