Indeed Diana had accused her of it, only to be met with a quiet negative.
"No," she had replied serenely.

"I don't dislike him.

But I disapprove of much that he does." "He is rather an attractive person," Diana ventured tentatively.
Olga Lermontof shot a keen glance at her.
"Well, I advise you not to give him your friendship," she said, "or"-- sneeringly--"anything of greater value." A sharp rat-tat at the door of her sitting-room recalled Diana's wandering thoughts to the present.

She threw a glance of half-comic dismay at the state of her sitting-room--every available chair and table seemed to be strewn with the contents of the trunks she was unpacking--and then, with a resigned shrug of her shoulders, she crossed to the door and threw it open.

Bunty was standing outside.
"What is it ?" Diana was beginning, when she caught sight of a pleasant, ugly face appearing over little Miss Bunting's shoulder.