"Who is she?" asked Chloris.
"That is Chloe," replied Fidele.
"Chloe?"
"You mustn't mind her rudeness, dearie. She is really a good sort of creature. But she is no doubt sorely tried."
"What tries her? Why do you laugh?"
"Demetrius! He was a shade partial to her before you came—not enough to cause comment in any place but this. And, even here, not enough to lay himself open to blame. It is a pity, though, that she can't keep her feelings hidden, and must vent her spite on you. Silly thing! I have no patience with that kind of girl."
Chloris's fingers became absent among the hair they were braiding. She looked into the lamp-flame with a vacant expression.
Fidele plied the brush in her tangled locks, and went on chatting.
Suddenly Chloris, who for some time had not spoken, laughed.