There was no immediate answer to her tap at the office door, and for a moment she hoped that Henrietta had retired to her own room upstairs and so reprieved her from her plain duty for a few hours longer. But no; there was her voice bidding her come in, and in went Lucy, feeling horribly like a culprit and furious with herself for being such a rabbit. Henrietta was still flushed and wounded-looking, and if she had not been Henrietta, Lucy would have said that there were tears in her eyes; but that was manifestly impossible. She was very busy about some papers on her desk, but Lucy felt that until she had knocked Henrietta's only activity had been mental.
"Henrietta," she began, "I'm afraid you thought it presumptuous of me to express an opinion about Miss Rouse." (Oh dear, that sounded very pompous!)
"A little uncalled-for," Henrietta said coldly.
Of all the Henrietta phrases! "Uncalled-for!" "But it was called for," she pointed out. "That is just what it was. I should never have dreamed of offering my opinion unasked. The point is, that opinion-"
"I don't think we need discuss it, Lucy. It is a small matter, anyhow, and not one to-"
"But it isn't a small matter. That is why I've come to see you."
"We pride ourselves in this country, don't we, that everyone has a right to his opinion, and a right to express it. Well, you expressed it-"
"When I was asked to."
"When you were asked to. And all I say is that it was a little tactless of you to take sides in a matter of which you can know very little, if anything at all."
"But that is just it. I do know something about it. You think I am just prejudiced against Miss Rouse because she is not very attractive —»