"Love—what is love?" cries she. "Oh, foolish Margaret! Do not listen to her, Tessie, do not listen."
She folds the soft silken curtains round her slender figure, and, hidden therein, still laughs aloud with a wild passion of mirth.
"It is you who are foolish," cries Margaret, with some agitation.
"I?" She lets the curtains go; they fall in a sweep behind her. She looks out at Margaret, still laughing. Her face is like ashes. "You speak too strongly," says she.
"Do you think I could speak too strongly?" asks Margaret, looking intently at her. It is a questioning glance. "You! Do you think Maurice ought to ask this poor, ignorant girl to marry him? Do you advise him to take this step?"
"Why, it appears he must take some step," says Marian. "Why not this?"
Margaret goes close to her and speaks in so low a tone that Lady
Rylton cannot hear her.
"His honour, is that nothing to you?" says she.
"To me? What have I got to do with his honour?" says Mrs. Bethune, with a little expressive gesture.
"Oh, Marian!" says Miss Knollys.