To Elizabeth’s annoyance, she felt herself colouring.
“Liz, and you never told me. Tell me at once. Is it true? Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Oh, Molly, what an Inquisitor you would have made!”
“Then it is true. And I suppose you told Agneta weeks ago?”
“I haven’t told any one,” said Elizabeth.
“Not Agneta? And I suppose if I hadn’t guessed you wouldn’t have told me for ages and ages and ages. Why didn’t you tell me, Liz?”
“Why, I thought I’d wait till you came back, Molly.”
Mary caught her sister’s hand.
“Liz, aren’t you glad? Aren’t you pleased? Doesn’t it make you happy? Oh, Liz, if I thought you were one of those dreadful women who don’t want to have a baby, I—I don’t know what I should do. I wanted to tell everybody. But then I was pleased. I don’t believe you’re a bit pleased. Are you?”
“I don’t know that pleased is exactly the word,” said Elizabeth. She looked at Mary and laughed a little.