“Pardon me, but I don’t agree with you,” replied Frances, “and I have a right to my own opinion, I suppose.”
Judy gave Molly a triumphant glance, as much as to say, “You see what you have done.”
Everybody looked a little uncomfortable, and Margaret Wakefield, equal to every occasion, launched into a learned discussion on how many ounces of food the normal person requires a day.
Once more the talk flowed on smoothly. But where Frances was, it would seem there were always hidden reefs which wrecked every subject, no matter how innocent, the moment it was launched.
“Molly, I can trade compliments with you,” put in Jessie Lynch, taking not the slightest notice of her roommate’s discourse. “It’s one of those very indirect, three-times-removed compliments, but you’ll be amused by it.”
“Really,” said Molly, “do tell me what it is before I burst with curiosity.”
“I said ‘trade,’” laughed Jessie, who liked a compliment herself extremely.
“Oh, of course,” replied Molly. “I have any number I can give you in exchange. How do you care for this one? Mary Stewart thinks you are very attractive.”
“Does she, really? That’s nice of her,” exclaimed Jessie, blushing with pleasure as if she hadn’t been told the same thing dozens of times before. “I think she’s fine; not exactly pretty, you know, but fine.”
“I suppose you don’t know how her father made his money?” broke in Frances.