’But I ought to favour him just a little, poor thing?  Just the smallest glimmer of a gleam!’

’Only a very little indeed—­so that it comes as a relief to his misery, not as adding to his happiness.’

‘It is being too clever, all this; and we ought to be harmless as doves.’

’Ah, Picotee! to continue harmless as a dove you must be wise as a serpent, you’ll find—­ay, ten serpents, for that matter.’

’But if I cannot get at him, how can I manage him in these ways you speak of?’

’Get at him?  I suppose he gets at you in some way, does he not?—­tries to see you, or to be near you?’

’No—­that’s just the point—­he doesn’t do any such thing, and there’s the worry of it!’

‘Well, what a silly girl!  Then he is not your lover at all?’

‘Perhaps he’s not.  But I am his, at any rate—­twice over.’

’That’s no use.  Supply the love for both sides?  Why, it’s worse than furnishing money for both.  You don’t suppose a man will give his heart in exchange for a woman’s when he has already got hers for nothing?  That’s not the way old Adam does business at all.’

Picotee sighed.  ‘Have you got a young man, too, Berta?’

‘A young man?’

’A lover I mean—­that’s what we call ’em down here.’

‘It is difficult to explain,’ said Ethelberta evasively.  ’I knew one many years ago, and I have seen him again, and—­that is all.’

’According to my idea you have one, but according to your own you have not; he does not love you, but you love him—­is that how it is?’

‘I have not quite considered how it is.’

‘Do you love him?’

‘I have never seen a man I hate less.’

‘A great deal lies covered up there, I expect!’

’He was in that carriage which drove over the hill at the moment we met here.’

’Ah-ah—­some great lord or another who has his day by candlelight, and so on.  I guess the style.  Somebody who no more knows how much bread is a loaf than I do the price of diamonds and pearls.’

’I am afraid he’s only a commoner as yet, and not a very great one either.  But surely you guess, Picotee?  But I’ll set you an example of frankness by telling his name.  My friend, Mr. Julian, to whom you posted the book.  Such changes as he has seen!—­from affluence to poverty.  He and his sister have been playing dances all night at Wyndway—­What is the matter?’

‘Only a pain!’

‘My dear Picotee—­’

‘I think I’ll sit down for a moment, Berta.’

‘What—­have you over-walked yourself, dear?’

‘Yes—­and I got up very early, you see.’

’I hope you are not going to be ill, child.  You look as if you ought not to be here.’

’O, it is quite trifling.  Does not getting up in a hurry cause a sense of faintness sometimes?’

‘Yes, in people who are not strong.’