"I never do," gayly. "Don't look to me for sentiment, Molly, because I am utterly devoid of it. I know I suffer in your estimation by this confession, but it is the simple truth. I don't wish for anything. And yet"—pausing suddenly—"I do. I have been wishing for something ever since that old person down-stairs tried to take me back this morning, and failed so egregiously."
"And your wish is——"
"That I could make my husband fall madly in love with me. Oh, Molly, what a revenge that would be! And why should he not, indeed?" Going over to a glass and gazing earnestly at herself. "I am pretty,—very pretty, I think. Speak, Molly, and encourage me."
"You know you are lovely," says Molly, in such good faith that Cecil kisses her on the spot. "But what if you should fall in love with him?"
"Perhaps I have done so long ago," her ladyship replies, in a tone impossible to translate, being still intent on the contemplation of her many charms. Then, quickly, "No, no, Molly, I am fire-proof."
"Yet any day you may meet some one to whom you must give your love."
"Not a bit of it. I should despise myself forever if I once found myself letting my pulse beat half a second faster for one man than for another."
"Do you mean to tell me you have never loved?"
"Never, never, never. And, indeed, to give myself due credit, I believe the fact that I have a husband somewhere would utterly prevent anything of the sort."
"That is a good thing, if the idea lasts. But won't you feel awkward in meeting him this evening?"