“In some ways I like it and in some ways I don’t. I think you’re better looking than that.”
“Things are looking up,” laughed Philip. “You’ve never told me I was good-looking before.”
“I’m not one to worry myself about a man’s looks. I don’t like good-looking men. They’re too conceited for me.”
Her eyes travelled round the room in an instinctive search for a looking-glass, but there was none; she put up her hand and patted her large fringe.
“What’ll the other people in the house say to my being here?” she asked suddenly.