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"Well, I don't mind telling you," said Rosamund, "that she puts me off mine, and she doesn't like me either."

"But she will like you," said Lesley earnestly, "I'm sure she will like you. You're young and pretty and nicely dressed, which is what she likes."

A curious mixture of pleasure and pity choked Rosamund's voice.

"I hope you'll like me," she said, when she had cleared her throat.

"Oh, yes, of course I will. I do."

"Well, then, let's hope you won't change when you know me better," she rapped away the softening mood. "And tell me—I don't know what time dinner is, but isn't it time you went to dress?"

"It won't take me five minutes."

Rosamund could imagine that.

"But it'll take me longer, especially as I shall have to unpack my things."

"Oh, yes, of course, I'd forgotten. And your room's ready. Luckily Mrs. Crouch hadn't gone when I found out you were coming today instead of Friday—I mean that Friday is today. Come along and I'll show you where it is."

As they passed through the house, Rosamund caught sight of her luggage still in the hall.