She paused for a moment as if listening to the first words of love. Then her mind took a practical turn.
'Of course we shan't be able to live in Notting Hill,' she added. 'We'll have to go further out, Shepherd's Bush way, so as to be on the Tube. And he says I shan't go to the P. R. R. any more.'
'Happy girl,' said Victoria. 'I'm so glad, Betty; I hope . . .'
She restrained a doubt. 'And as you say you can't stay to tea I think I know where you're going.'
'Well, yes, I am going to meet him,' said Betty laughing.
'Yes . . . and you're going to look at little houses at Shepherd's Bush.'
Betty looked up dreamily. She could see a two-storeyed house in a row, with a bay window, and a front garden where, winter or summer, marigolds grew.
After lunch, as the two women sat once more in the boudoir, they said very little. Victoria, from time to time, flicked the ash from her cigarette. Betty did not smoke, but, her hands clasped together in her lap, watched a handsome dark face in the coals.
'And how are you getting on, Vic?' she asked suddenly. Swamped by the impetuous tide of her own romance she had not as yet shown any interest in her friend's affairs.
'I? Oh, nothing special. Pretty fair.'