"But they are my charge," Jean explained. "They were left to me. Mother said, before she went away that last time, 'I trust you, Jean, to look after the boys,' and when father didn't come back, and Great-aunt Alison died, they had only me."
"Can't you adopt me as well? Do you know, Penny-plain, I believe it is all the fault of your Great-aunt Alison. You are thinking that on your death-bed you will like to feel that you sacrificed yourself to others—"
"Oh," cried Jean, "did Pamela actually tell you about Great-aunt Alison?
That wasn't quite fair."
"She wasn't laughing. She only told me because she knew I was interested in every detail of your life, and Great-aunt Alison explains a lot of things about her grand-niece."
Jean pondered on this for a little and then said:
"Pam once said I was on the verge of being a prig, and I'm not sure that she wasn't right, and it's a hateful thing to be. D'you think I'm priggish, Richard Plantagenet? Oh no, don't kiss me. I hate it…. Why do you want to behave like that? It isn't nice."
"I'm sorry, Jean."
"And now your voice sounds as if you did think me a prig … Here we are at last, and I simply don't know what to say kept us."
"Don't say anything: leave it to me. I'll be sure to think of some lie.
Do you realise that we are only ten minutes behind the others?"
"Is that all?" cried Jean, amazed. "It seems like hours."