And prettier.
BELINDA (fluttering her eyelids). Oh, do you think so? (Firmly)
Don't be silly, child.
DELIA (holding up a finger). Now tell me all that's been
happening here at once.
BELINDA (with a sigh). And I was just going to ask you how you
were getting on with your French.
DELIA. Bother French! You've been having a much more interesting
time than I have, so you've got to tell.
BELINDA (with a happy sigh). O-oh! (She sinks back into her
chair.)
DELIA. Is it like the Count at Scarborough?
BELINDA (surprised and pained). My darling, what _do_ you mean?
DELIA. Don't you remember the Count who kept proposing to you at
Scarborough? I do.
BELINDA (reproachfully). Dear one, you were the merest child,
paddling about on the beach and digging castles.
DELIA (smiling to herself). I was old enough to notice the Count.
BELINDA (sadly). And I'd bought her a perfectly new spade! How
one deceives oneself!
DELIA. And then there was the M.P. who proposed at Windermere.
BELINDA. Yes, dear, but it wasn't seconded--I mean he never got
very far with it.
DELIA. And the artist in Wales.
BELINDA. Darling child, what a memory you have. No wonder your
teachers are pleased with you.
DELIA (settling herself comfortably). Now tell me all about this
one.
BELINDA (meekly).
Pages:
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156