"Then you will one day, Miss Pamela? How many days must go by first? You called that other man—St. Leger—by his name. It is 'Mick' with all of you."
"Ah," said Pamela, again with the bewildering glance; "but Mick was Mick, you see."
A sudden irrational anger kindled in the young man's eye, and his expression stiffened.
"Oh, I see," he said. "This paragon had special privileges which no one else may hope to share."
"He certainly had," said Pamela. "For no one else would endure them, poor dear!"
"Now, what do you mean by that?" he said doubtfully. "Do you mean the privilege of being called by his name?"
"No, but the privilege of my society and Sylvia's."
"He must have been jolly hard to please."
"He wasn't, then. He was as easily pleased as a child. I should like to have seen you in some of the situations in which Mick distinguished himself."
"I daresay I'd be very undistinguished. I make no pretence of being a paragon."