Her retort was so adolescent in nature that Beatrice almost laughed out loud. Did the idiotic girl really think she was upsetting her by making some ill-founded slur concerning her weight? If that was the best she could do in an attempt to shoot an arrow through her self-confidence, she clearly couldn't do much at all. At least anything Beatrice had to say about Soviet Barbie was founded in obvious truth.
"Oh, don't worry, I completely agree about my clothes," she assented readily, looking the little blonde cretin up and down with critical and discerning eyes, tones of upmost pity clouding her voice. "They'd be far too long in the leg, for a start, and much bigger around the bust. I would take you shopping with me if I could, but, well…" she cocked her head to the side and squinted at her neighbour in an entirely put-on attempt to look as if she had something awkward to say and didn't want to say it, lest she hurt her feelings. "I don't really think you could afford to shop in the same places I do, darling. I tend not to buy my underwear from flea markets."