Miss Bennett was a little late this morning, and Edith had been getting quite anxious to see her.
When she at last arrived--she was a nondescript-looking girl, with a small hat squashed on her head, a serge coat and skirt, black gloves and shoes with spats--Edith greeted her rather reproachfully with: 'You're late, Grace.' 'Sorry,' said Grace.
The name suited her singularly badly.

She was plain, but had a pleasant face, a pink complexion, small bright eyes, protruding teeth and a scenario for a figure, merely a collection of bones on which a dress could be hung.

She was devoted to Edith, and to a few other friends of both sexes, of whom she made idols.

She was hard, abrupt, enthusiastic, ignorant and humorous.
'Sorry, but I had to do a lot of--' 'All right,' interrupted Edith.

'You couldn't help it.