Sibylla broke into a gentle laugh.
"It has the attraction of the horrible," she admitted. "He'd have done it, you know."
"It's mediæval," said Christine fondly. "And you were going away with Walter Blake!" She drew her little figure up straight. "Sibylla, you're no woman if you don't manage a man like that in the end. He's worth it, you know."
"You mean—if I don't let him manage me?" Sibylla was a little contemptuous. "I don't care about tyranny, even tempered by epigrams," she explained.
"Well, not when you only do the epigrams," smiled Christine.
"That's not true. I only ask a real partnership."
"You must begin by contributing all you have."
"I did. But Grantley——"
"Paid a composition? Oh yes, my dear; men do. That's as old as Byron anyhow." She came suddenly to Sibylla and kissed her. "And you'd be adorable, properly deluded."
"You shan't put it like that, Christine."