"I don't think any of us would like that," she said.
"But I daresay I have become too much of a Martha."
She got up, feeling painfully afraid that she was going to cry again.
"I don't see why I shouldn't do as Timmy said--change my apron, I mean,
and go into the drawing-room. For one thing, I should like to see Mrs.
Crofton's dress. Tom says she looks a regular peach! That's his highest
form of praise, you know."
Radmore suddenly resolved to say something which had been on his mind of
late. "Don't you think that Jack's making rather a fool of himself over
that pretty little lady?"
Betty looked across at him with the frank, direct gaze that he remembered
so well. "I'm afraid he is," she answered. "He and Janet had quite a row
about her this morning. He seemed to think we had been rude to her; he
was most awfully huffy about it. But I suppose saying anything only makes
things worse in such a case, doesn't it?"
"I don't see why I shouldn't speak to _her_. She and I know each other
pretty well. She was a desperate little flirt when I first knew her in
Egypt." And then, as he saw a look cross her face to which he had no
clue, he added hastily:--"She's quite all right, Betty.
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