May’s eyes and voice were so full of significance that to pretend to misunderstand was impossible.

’I like Mr. Harding well enough.  It is very pleasant to have him to talk to.  I am sure I don’t want to run down my own sex—­there are plenty only too anxious to do that—­but I am afraid that there is not a girl in Dublin who thinks of anything except how she is to get married.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ said May, a little offended.  ’I suppose if you think of a man at all, you think of how he likes you.’

The defiant tone in which these words were spoken was surprising; and, for a moment, Alice stood staring blankly at this superb cream-fleshed girl, superb in her dress of cream faille, her sensual beauty poetized by the long veils which hung like gossamer-webs from the coils of her copper-gleaming hair.

‘I am afraid, May,’ she said, ’that you think a great deal too much of such things.  I don’t say anything against Mr. Scully, but I think it right to tell you that he is considered a very dangerous young man; and I am sure it does a girl no good to be seen with him.  It was he who . . .’

‘Now I’ll not hear you abuse Fred,’ cried May.  ’We are great friends; I like you better than any other girl, and if you value our friendship, you’ll not speak to me again like this.  I wouldn’t put up with it, no, not from my own mother.’

The girl moved towards the door hastily, but Alice laid her hand on her arm, saying: 

’You mustn’t be angry, May; perhaps you’re right; I shouldn’t meddle in things that don’t concern me; but then we have been so long friends that I couldn’t help—­’

‘I know, I know,’ the girl answered, overcome as it were by an atmosphere.  ’You were speaking only for my good; but if you’re friends with a person, you can’t stand by and hear them abused.  I know people speak badly of Fred; but then people are so jealous—­and they are all jealous of Fred.’

The girls examined each other’s dresses, and at the end of a long silence May said: 

’What an extraordinary thing this Drawing-Room is when one comes to think of it.  Just fancy going to all this expense to be kissed by the Lord-Lieutenant—­a man one never saw before.  Will you feel ashamed when he kisses you?’

‘Well, I don’t know that I have thought much about it,’ said Alice, laughing.  ’I suppose it doesn’t matter, it is only a ceremony, not a real kiss.’

At this moment Mrs. Barton’s voice was heard calling:  ’Now, Alice, Alice, where are you?  We are waiting for you!  Make haste, for goodness’ sake; we are very late as it is.’