"I'm afraid you're very ambitious," she said.
"Well, I am," admitted Claire, not knowing how much rosy and dimpled charm her face had got while she spoke the words. "I am quite willing to concede that I have aims, projects, intentions."
Mrs. Diggs threw back her head, and laughed noisily. But she lowered her voice to a key much graver than her laugh, as she said:—
"You're as clever as Cornelia, in your way. Yes, you are. I shouldn't be surprised if you were a good deal cleverer, too. I suspect there's a nice stock of discreet reserve under your candor."
Claire creased her brows in a slightly piqued manner. "That is not very pleasant to hear," she said.
Mrs. Diggs stretched out her hand across the table so pointedly and cordially that Claire felt forced to take it.
"I like you. You interest me. Forgive me if I've annoyed you."
"You haven't annoyed me," was Claire's reply.
"I want to see those aims, projects, intentions," Mrs. Diggs continued, still holding her hand, and warmly pressing it besides. "Yes, I want to see you exploiter them—carry them out. You shall do it, if I can help you. And you will let me help you, I hope? You won't think me disagreeably patronizing, will you? I only speak in this way because I've taken a desperate fancy to you."
"Thanks," said Claire. Her eyes were sparkling; her heart was beating quickly.