'You do have a little curl, though. You had it then, and you have it now. Mother used to refer to it as your "kiss-curl". You have pretty hair, Georgie Porgie, even if it does lead a life of its own. It never stays put like Jennie's does.' Georgina could have told him that she didn't use hair lacquer as her sister did, but she didn't. She sighed instead, wondering rather bleakly if there would ever come a time when he would cease to compare her with Jennifer all the time. She glanced out of the window at the steadily falling rain and took consolation from the thought that her sister would have hated everything about the bungalow and the sodden scenery. Jennifer was a fair-weather person in all senses of the word. She hated wet weather as much as she hated having to put herself out on another's behalf. Nobody could be more pleasant while everything was going well, but when she was crossed nobody was safe from her ire. 'It's all right,' she muttered inelegantly. 'It suits me as it is.' His eyes mocked her.
