“Do they not? Why, do they tell their friends they are ugly?”
Maurice roared in spite of her presence, upon which she looked at him rather reproachfully.
“It is too bad of you to laugh at me, Mr. Roylands,” she said pettishly; “you can’t expect me to be like an English lady after living all my life at Melnos.”
“You are much more charming than any English lady I know.”
A charming smile dimpled the corners of her mouth.
“Really! Ah, I see it is the custom for the gentlemen to pay compliments to the ladies, not the other way about. I must not tell you you are good-looking, but it is quite proper for you to say I am charming.”
“Well—that is—really, you know, I hardly know what to say,” said Maurice, finding himself somewhat in a dilemma. “The fact is, neither English men nor women pay each other compliments at all—at least, it’s not supposed to be good form.”
“What is good form?” asked Helena innocently.
“I must undertake your education, Miss Justinian.”
“I am not Miss Justinian. You must call me Helena.”