"Oh, but be sincere. We have both learnt to speak another language—you no less than I. Let me hear a word such as you used to speak. I know you despise me unutterably."
"You are quite mistaken. I admire you very much."
"What—my skill? Or my dress?"
"Everything. You have become precisely what you were meant to be."
"Oh, the scorn of that!"
"I beg you not to think it for a moment. There was a time when I might have found a foolish pleasure in speaking to you with sarcasm. But that has long gone by."
"What am I, then?"
"An English lady—with rather more intellect than most."
Eve flushed with satisfaction.
"It's more than kind of you to say that. But you always had a generous spirit. I never thanked you. Not one poor word. I was cowardly—afraid to write. And you didn't care for my thanks."