"You can call me 'Countess', if you wish to give me a name," she answered, "I have eight names, but I do not tell them to people in this place. You heard my maid say 'Countess'. Very well, then, you can also say Countess."
"Oh, thanks--that's very obliging of you," said Pamela, quite unimpressed, "it's as you please, of course. And after that, to get to the reason of my visit. I naturally supposed that you meant me to meet you at 8.30 to-night."
"Oh--to-night will do," allowed the Countess quite amiably, "I wished this morning, because I was in a hurry, but to-night will do as you have misunderstood my meaning."
"Neither would do, simply because I've no intention of meeting you anywhere, or at any time. It is just as well you should understand."
There was a pause. Then Pamela took up her parable again--rather enjoying herself.
"As I said to you a few minutes ago, why on earth should I? I don't want to be bothered with meeting anybody on the sly--we don't do it in our family. The others would soon notice and think I was doing a low-down thing. I don't know you--I don't know your name. You are no business of mine. I don't care what you've got to say if it is secret--if it isn't, well, be open. That's the whole position, please understand I came here because I wish to be open, and to tell you honestly."
The Countess sat still with her eyes gazing at the carpet, her glance had dropped from Pamela's expressive face and large clear eyes.
"You are unkind," she said, after a moment of silence. "I have no one--no one."
She clasped her hands together rigidly on her lap, and Pam saw that they shook. The corners of her proud mouth twitched a little. But she held herself severely in check, and controlled evident emotion.
This was worse than anything to a girl with a heart like Pamela's.