“You hear him?” he remarked, looking impressively around. He stepped back further. The way it had happened was stupid, absurd. She remained stonily in the middle of the hallway until the spinsters' door shut them from view … for ever. She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother. She hesitated, and for a moment thought of omitting her second verse altogether. “You are a dear,” she exclaimed affectionately. The door leaned inward. She felt flattered.
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