"Say something nice to me," she cried. "Compliment me on my beauty, my talents, my virtues. There is no flattery so gross that I could not swallow it."
Phyllis looked from her to Lucy and tapped her forehead in significant pantomime.
"You are everything that is most delightful," said Lucy; "only do tell us about the great man."
"He was odious," cried Gertrude.
"She has never been quarrelling, I will not say with her own, but with our bread-and-butter," said Phyllis, in affected dismay.
"I will never go there again, if that's what you mean."
"But what is the matter, Gerty? I found him quite polite."
"Polite? It is worse than rudeness, a politeness which says so plainly: 'This is for my own sake, not for yours.'"
"You are really cross, Gerty; what has the illustrious Sidney been doing to you?" said Lucy, who did not suffer from violent likes and dislikes.