Maryllia laughed.

“Well, she’s only fourteen—–­”

“Nonsense!” declared Mrs. Courtenay—­“She tells you that—­but she’s twenty, if she’s a day!  She’s ‘doing’ you, all round, and so is that artful old creature Gigue!  Taking your money all for nothing!—­you may be sure the two of them are in a perfect conspiracy to rob you!  I can’t imagine why you should go out of your way to pick up such people—­really I can’t—­when you might marry into one of the best positions in England!”

Maryllia was silent.  After a pause, she said gently: 

“Is there anything else you want to tell me?  I’m rather pressed for time,—­I have one or two letters to write—–­”

“Oh, I see you want to get rid of me,” and Mrs. Courtenay rose from her chair with a bounce—­“You have become so rude lately, Maryllia,- -you really have!  Your aunt is quite right!  But I’m glad you have asked Roxmouth to dine to-night—­that is at least one step in the right direction!  I’m sure if you will let him say a few words to you alone—–­”

Maryllia lifted her eyes.

“I have already asked you to drop this subject,” she said.

“Well!—­if you persist in your obstinacy, you can only blame yourself for losing a good chance,”—­said Mrs. Courtenay, with real irritation—­“You won’t see it, of course, but you’re getting very passee, Maryllia—­and it’s only an old friend of your aunt’s like myself that can tell you so.  I have noticed several wrinkles round your eyes—­you should massage with some ‘creme ivoire’ and tap those lines—­you really should—­tap on to them so—–­” and Mrs. Bludlip Courtenay illustrated her instructions delicately on her own pink-and-white dolly face with her finger-tips—­“I spend quite an hour every day tapping every line away round my eyes—­but you’ve really got more than I have—–­”

“I’m not so young as you are, perhaps!” said Maryllia, with a little smile—­“But I don’t care a bit how I look!  If I’m getting old, so is everyone—­it’s no crime.  If we live, we must also die.  People who sneer at age are likely to be sneered at themselves when their time comes.  And if I’m growing wrinkles, I’d rather have country ones than town ones.  See?”

“Dear me, what odd things you do say!” and Mrs. Bludlip Courtenay shook out her skirts and glanced over her shoulder at her own reflection in a convenient mirror—­“You seem to be quite impossible at times—–­”

“Yes,—­Aunt Emily always said so!”—­interposed Maryllia, quietly.

“And yet think of the advantages you have had!—­the education—­the long course of travel!—­you should really know the world by this time better than you do?”—­went on the irrepressible lady—­“You should surely be able to see that there is nothing so good for a woman as a good marriage.  Everything in a girl’s life points to that end—­she is trained for it, dressed for it, brought up to it—­and yet here you are with a most brilliant position waiting