"Yes, I am glad, Sally; I can't tell you how glad. I should be a miserable girl if I were like----"
She paused suddenly, with a guilty blush, being about to say, "if I were like you, Sally."
Sally smiled. "I don't doubt I should be glad if I had a skin as white, and eyes as blue, and lips as red as yours; but for all that, I don't seem to be sorry because I am ugly. For I am very ugly!"
She gazed at the reflection of herself in the glass with eyes that were almost merry, and despite her self-depreciation there was something very attractive in her appearance. The grace of youth was hers, and the kindliness and unselfishness of her nature imparted a charm to her face which mere beauty of feature could not supply.
"You are not so very ugly," observed the Duchess.
"No?" questioned Sally.
"No. You are as good-looking as most of the girls in Rosemary Lane----"
"Leaving you out," interrupted Sally quickly.
"Yes," said the Duchess complacently, "leaving me out. Your teeth are not white, but they are regular, and I like your mouth, Sally"--kissing it--"though it is a little bit too large. Your hair isn't as silky as mine----"
"Oh, no, Duchess, how could it be?"