She herself had been launched into Society there, and the flowers at the ball had cost eighty-seven pounds; but, being reckoned peculiar, she had made few friends among her own sex.  She had attracted many men, for she was a beauty—­the beauty, in fact, of Society, she said.

She spoke utterly without shame or reticence, as a life-prisoner tells his past to a fellow-prisoner; and Conroy nodded across the smoke-rings.

‘Do you remember when you got into the carriage?’ she asked. ’(Oh, I wish I had some knitting!) Did you notice aught, lad?’

Conroy thought back.  It was ages since.  ’Wasn’t there some one outside the door—­crying?’ he asked.

‘He’s—­he’s the little man I was engaged to,’ she said.  ’But I made him break it off.  I told him ‘twas no good.  But he won’t, yo’ see.’

‘That fellow?  Why, he doesn’t come up to your shoulder.’

’That’s naught to do with it.  I think all the world of him.  I’m a foolish wench’—­her speech wandered as she settled herself cosily, one elbow on the arm-rest.  ’We’d been engaged—­I couldn’t help that—­and he worships the ground I tread on.  But it’s no use.  I’m not responsible, you see.  His two sisters are against it, though I’ve the money.  They’re right, but they think it’s the dri-ink,’ she drawled.  ’They’re Methody—­the Skinners.  You see, their grandfather that started the Patton Mills, he died o’ the dri-ink.’

‘I see,’ said Conroy.  The grave face before him under the lifted veil was troubled.

‘George Skinner.’  She breathed it softly.  ’I’d make him a good wife, by God’s gra-ace—­if I could.  But it’s no use.  I’m not responsible.  But he’ll not take “No” for an answer.  I used to call him “Toots.”  He’s of no consequence, yo’ see.’

‘That’s in Dickens,’ said Conroy, quite quickly.  ’I haven’t thought of Toots for years.  He was at Doctor Blimber’s.’

‘And so—­that’s my trouble,’ she concluded, ever so slightly wringing her hands.  ‘But I—­don’t you think—­there’s hope now?’

‘Eh?’ said Conroy.  ’Oh yes!  This is the first time I’ve turned my corner without help.  With your help, I should say.’

‘It’ll come back, though.’

’Then shall we meet it in the same way?  Here’s my card.  Write me your train, and we’ll go together.’

‘Yes.  We must do that.  But between times—­when we want—­’ She looked at her palm, the four fingers working on it.  ’It’s hard to give ’em up.’

’But think what we have gained already, and let me have the case to keep.’

She shook her head, and threw her cigarette out of the window.  ’Not yet.’

’Then let’s lend our cases to Nurse, and we’ll get through to-day on cigarettes.  I’ll call her while we feel strong.’

She hesitated, but yielded at last, and Nurse accepted the offerings with a smile.

‘You’ll be all right,’ she said to Miss Henschil.  ’But if I were you’—­to Conroy—­’I’d take strong exercise.’