t way is to come out of it, to grow out of
it. Then all the rest has the charm of novelty and the value of
contrast, and the distinction of being the best. You, poor dear, were
born an artificial flower in a cardboard box. But you couldn't help it."

"Everybody doesn't grow out of it." The concentration in Alicia's eyes
returned again with vacillating wings.

"She can't be here for a quarter of an hour yet."

The slipper dropped at this point, and Hilda stooped to put it on again.
She kept her foot in her hands and regarded it pensively.

"Shoes are the one thing one shouldn't buy in the native quarter," she
said; "At all events, ready-made."

"You have an audacity----" Alicia ended abruptly in a wan smile.

"Haven't I? Are you quite sure he wants to marry her?"

"I know it."

"From him?"

"From him."

"Oh"--Hilda deliberated a moment, nursing her slipper--"Really? Well, we
can't let that happen."

"Why not?"

"You have a hardihood! Is no reason plain to you? Don't you see
anything?"

Alicia smiled again painfully, as if against a tension of her lips. "I
see only one thing that matters--he wants it," she said.

"And won't be happy till he gets it? Rubbish, my dear! We are an
intolerably self-sacrificing sex." Hilda felt around for pillows, and
stretched her length along the bed. "They've taught us well, the men;
it's a blood disease now, running everywhere in the female line. You may
be sure it was a barbarian princess that hesitated between the lady and
the tiger. A civilised one would have introduced the lady and given her
a _dot_, and retired to the nearest convent. Bah! It's a deformity, like
the dachshund's legs."

Alicia looked as if this would be a little troublesome, and not quite
worth while to follow.

"The happiness of his whole life is involved," she said, simply.

"Oh dear yes--the old story! And what about the happiness of yours? Do
you imagine it's laudable, admirable, this attitude? Do you see yourself
in it with pleasure? Have you got a sacred satisfaction of self-praise?"

Contempt accumulated in Miss Howe's voice and sat in her eyes. To mark
her climax, she kicked her slipper over the end of the bed.

"It is idiotic--it's disgusting," she said.

Alicia caught a flash from her. "My attitude!" she cried. "What in the
world do you mean? Do you always think in poses? I take no attitude. I
care for him, and in that proportion I intend that he shall have what he
wants--so far as I