Two girls were walking down Palmerston Road, Portsmouth, with a graceful swing which drew the eyes of the passers-by to them. The elder of the two, slender and pretty, with an unusual amount of brown curling hair tied loosely back from a vivid face, was holding forth to the other, a much smaller girl, with black eyes shining out of a pale pointed face, which looked the paler for the straight black hair cut round it, page’s fashion. They were a noticeable pair in any place, but the more so because of their swift graceful movements, and their trick—an unusual one in English girls, as they obviously were—of using their hands when they talked.
‘It’s going to be difficult, you see, Joey,’ said the older girl as they paused before a café, where they evidently expected to meet someone. ‘If only Madame hadn’t gone and got married this year!’ she added with a sigh.
Joey pulled her brown cap more firmly on to her head before she replied. ‘I think you are a bit selfish about that, Grizel,’ she said mildly. ‘After all, she did wait a whole year before she did it, and it’s worse for Robin and me than for you. Now, where is Maynie? She said she’d be here by one, and it’s past that now! Do you think she’s missed the train or anything?’