“Did Tom inquire for me?” asked Annie, in a low voice.
“Didn't have a chance. Imogen got ahead of him.”
“Oh, well, then it doesn't matter. I dare say he did come to see Imogen.”
“He didn't,” said Benny, stoutly. “And that isn't all. Say, Annie—”
“What?”
“Are you going to marry George Wells? It is none of my business, but are you?”
Annie laughed a little, although her face was still pale. She had folded the omelet and was carefully watching it.
“You need not worry about that, Benny dear,” she said.
“Then what right have the girls to tell so many people the nice things they hear you say about him?”
Annie removed the omelet skilfully from the pan to a hot plate, which she set on the range shelf, and turned to her brother.