Agatha turned away from her.
"I thought better of you," she said.
"Now, that is always what puzzles me," said Elfrida, not in the least offended by Agatha's ungracious reception of her news, but with the air of one prepared to argue the question calmly, even to the death. "Why should people always think better of me? I don't see how I can be better. What's the matter with me?"
Agatha looked at her sadly. Her own dull, miserable story was before her.
How could a girl willingly sell herself for title, or money, or position, or anything? And Elfrida, who was rich, who could defy the world, she to sell herself to that detestable man, for the sake of hearing herself called Lady Ambert! In her present mood it seemed hateful—unnatural—to Agatha. Oh, how gladly would she give herself for love—love only!
"There is nothing the matter with you," said she—- "nothing. I won't believe there is. I won't believe, either, that you will marry Lord Ambert."
"I expect I shall, however. And why not? Auntie is quite delighted about it. Just fancy, she will be Ambert's 'auntie' very shortly!"
"Your aunt is naturally ambitious for you," Agatha said; "but you —you—-"
"Well, I—- I"—mimicking her gaily—"what of me? Do you think I can't see the glitter of diamonds as well as any one else?— and I hear the Ambert diamonds are beyond praise."
"What are diamonds to you, who have so much money? Why, you could buy them for yourself."