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"Of what sort?"
"How many of them are there, mother?" was Lucy's response.
"I tell you what," said Rosamund fiercely, "I don't like her, and I'm not going to talk about her. I am going to ignore her. I am going to make this house too hot for her. She shall go and live with her aunt Susan, or she shall know her place. I, Rosamund Cunliffe, know my own power, and I mean to exercise it. It is the casting of the die, Jane; it is the flinging down of the gauntlet. And now, for goodness' sake, let us get into bed."
She raised confiding dark eyes to her new friend's face.
"What a nice girl Rosamund Cunliffe seems!" was her first remark.