There was an embarrassed silence; and then Miss Chatterton again raised her cheerful voice.
"I say, [Frida]! you might tell me exactly what I'm in for. Are you two going to be horribly intellectual and clever and that sort of thing?"
"I'm not," said Miss Tancred.
"I'm not," echoed Durant.
"Thank Heaven! Because you both look as if you'd a tremendous lot in you. I wonder if you'll ever let it out."
"Not if we can help it," said Durant.
"There you are again! If you're not Frida's first cousin, you ought to be."
Durant smiled; he wondered whether the idea was more than the random frolicking of Miss Chatterton's brain. She was evidently a young woman of perception; but her perceptions had wings, and she threw them off from her in a manner altogether spontaneous, impersonal and free. It was nothing to her if they brushed against the truth sometimes in their irresponsible flight.
"You don't mind all these personal remarks, do you?"
"Not in the least," said Miss Tancred.