“Except when she is talking to men,” said Alice vindictively, to which Mrs. Hooper added with her little obstinate air—­

“Any girl who likes admiration as much as Connie does must be vain.  Of course, I don’t blame her.”

“Likes admiration?  Hm,” said Nora, still chewing at her twig.  “Yes, I suppose she does.  But she’s good at snubbing, too.”  And she threw a glance at her sister.  She was thinking of a small evening party the night before, at which, it seemed to her, Connie had several times snubbed Herbert Pryce rather severely.  Alice said nothing.  She knew what Nora meant.  But that Connie should despise what she had filched away only made things worse.

Mrs. Hooper sighed again—­loudly.

“The point is—­is she carrying on with that man, Mr. Falloden?”

Nora looked up indignantly.  Her mother’s vulgarity tormented her.

“How can she be ‘carrying on,’ mother?  He won’t be in Oxford again till his schools.”

“Oh, you never know,” said Mrs. Hooper vaguely.  “Well, I must go and answer these notes.”

She went away.  Nora descended gloomily from the window-sill.

“Mother wants a new dress.  If we don’t all look out, we shall be in Queer Street again.”

“You’re always so dismal,” said Alice impatiently.  “Things are a great deal better than they were.”

“Well, goodness knows what would have happened to us if they weren’t!” cried Nora.  “Besides they ’re not nearly so much better as you think.  And the only reason why they’re better is that Uncle Risborough left us some money, and Connie’s come to live here.  And you and mother do nothing but say horrid things about her, behind her back!”

She looked at her sister with accusing eyes.  But Alice tossed her head, and declared she wasn’t going to be lectured by her younger sister.  “You yourself told mother this morning that Connie had insulted you.”

“Yes, and I was a beast to say so!” cried the girl “She meant it awfully well.  Only I thought she thought I had been trying to sponge on her; because I said something about having no dresses for the Commem. balls, even if I wanted to ‘come out’ then—­which I don’t!—­and she straightaway offered to give me that dress in Brandon’s.  And I was cross, and behaved like a fiend.  And afterwards Connie said she was awfully sorry if she’d hurt my feelings.”

And suddenly Nora’s brown eyes filled with tears.

“Well, you get on with her,” said Alice, with fresh impatience—­“and I don’t.  That’s all there is to it.  Now do go away and let me get on with the hat.”

* * * * *

That night, after Connie had finished her toilet for the night and was safely in bed, with a new novel of Fogazzaro before her and a reading lamp beside her, she suddenly put out her arms, and took Annette’s apple-red countenance—­as the maid stooped over her to straighten the bed-clothes—­between her two small hands.