"Oh!" exclaimed Milly, angrily. "How I do hate sharing a room with you, there's no privacy!"
Joan laughed rudely. "You are an ass, Milly, you try so hard to be grown up and you're nothing but a silly kid."
"Perhaps if you knew all," Milly hinted darkly, "you'd realize that some people think me grown up."
"Do they?"
"Yes, Mr. Thompson does, if you must know."
"I didn't say I wanted to know."
"Well, Mr. Thompson doesn't treat me as though I were a little girl; he's very attentive."
"Do you mean the young man at the library, who smells of hair oil?"
"I mean Mr. Thompson the tennis player."
"Oh, yes," said Joan vaguely, "I remember now, he does play tennis."