‘Your hair is lovely, Helen. I always envy you the way it curls.’
I said:
‘It is so dull, just brown and ordinary. I wish it was bright yellow, or black and straight.’
Mollie looked round at me; she was brushing her own hair.
‘You poor pretty thing,’ she said, and threw her arms round my neck. ‘Oh, Helen, I’m so sorry for you, but don’t mind—it will be all right.’
Then I began to cry, and she comforted me. We never said what was the matter, but of course we both knew.
XVI
It was about a fortnight later that I went to Hugo’s room in Clifford’s Inn and found him out.
We were going to Richmond that afternoon, the Addingtons and Hugo and I, for a walk. I was to pick up Hugo first, and then we were to go on to the Addingtons in Chelsea.
When I got there, Hugo was out. Guy opened the door, and I thought he looked sorry.