“I think we ought to go, my dear,” she said—­“or rather—­I don’t know about myself—­but you ought to go certainly.  It’s a great house—­a great family—­and she is a very great lady—­a little—­ well!—­a little ‘modern’ perhaps—­”

Innocent lifted her eyebrows with a slight, almost weary smile.  A scarcely perceptible change had come over her of late—­a change too subtle to be noticed by anyone who was not as keenly observant as Miss Lavinia—­but it was sufficient to give the old lady who loved her cause for a suspicion of trouble.

“What is it to be modern?” she asked—­“In your sense, I mean?  I know what is called ‘modern’ generally—­bad art, bad literature, bad manners and bad taste!  But what do you call modern?”

Miss Leigh considered—­looking at the girl with steadfast, kindly eyes.

“You speak a trifle bitterly—­for you, dear child!” she said—­ “These things you name as ‘modern’ truly are so, but they are ancient as well!  The world has altered very little, I think.  What we call ‘bad’ has always existed as badness—­it is only presented to us in different forms—­”

Innocent laughed—­a soft little laugh of tenderness.

“Wise godmother!” she said, playfully—­“You talk like a book!”

Miss Lavinia laughed too, and a pretty pink colour came into her wan cheeks.

“Naughty child, you are making fun of me!” she said—­“What I meant about the Duchess—­”

Innocent stretched out her hand for the card of invitation and looked at it.

“Well!” she said, slowly—­“What about the Duchess?”

Miss Leigh hesitated.

“I hardly know how to put it,” she answered, at last—­“She’s a kind-hearted woman—­very generous—­and most helpful in works of charity.  I never knew such energy as she shows in organising charity bails and bazaars!—­perfectly wonderful!—­but she likes to live her life—­”

“Who would not!” murmured the girl, scarcely audibly.

“And she lives it—­very much so!—­rather to the dregs!” continued the old lady, with emphasis.  “She has no real aim beyond the satisfaction of her own vanity and social power—­and you, with your beautiful thoughts and ideals, might not like the kind of people she surrounds herself with—­people, who only want amusement and ’sensation’—­particularly sensation—­”

Innocent said nothing for a minute or two—­then she looked up, brightly.

“To go or not to go, godmother mine!  Which is it to be?  The decision rests with you!  Yes, or no?”

“I think it must be ‘yes’”—­and Miss Leigh emphasised the word with a little nod of her head.  “It would be unwise to refuse—­ especially just now when everyone is talking of you and wishing to see you.  And you are quite worth seeing!”

The girl gave a slight gesture of indifference and moved away slowly and listlessly, as though fatigued by the mere effort of speech.  Miss Leigh noted this with some concern, watching her as she went, and admiring the supple grace of her small figure, the well-shaped little head so proudly poised on the slim throat, and the burnished sheen of her bright hair.