"For the pleasure of seeing him at your feet, and then kicking him away. Revenge, my love, revenge."
"How dare you say such things, Aunt! It—it isn't true!"
Lady Malmerstoke continued to pursue her own line of thought.
"From all I can see of this Philip, he's not the man to be beaten by a chit of a girl. I think he is in love with you. Have a care, my dear. Men with chins like his are not safe. I've had experience, and I know. He'll win in the end, if he has a mind to do so."
"Mind!" Cleone was scornful. "He has no mind above clothes or poems!"
Lady Malmerstoke eyed her lazily.
"Who told you that, Clo?"
"No one. I can see for myself."
"There is nothing blinder than a very young woman," philosophised her ladyship. "One lives and one learns. Your Philip—"
"He isn't my Philip!" cried Cleone, nearly in tears.