Lucy selected a gown from her wardrobe. "But is not Sir Douglas still awfully tired with the journey?" she asked, looking over her shoulder to get a back view of her pretty skirt in the pier-glass.
"He has rested more or less for two days, and he is anxious to see the Monteiths before they go on to Florence."
She did not add, "I told him you were pining to see Monte Carlo before you go home."
"The Monteiths," repeated Lucy involuntarily. And as she heard the name on her own lips, the healthy flush on her cheek deepened almost imperceptibly.
Evelyn seated herself on a hat-box.
"I don't believe you will ever be a doctor," she remarked calmly.
"What do you bet?" Lucy did not look up from the arduous task of fastening her bodice.
"I don't bet; but if you ever are, I'll—consult you!"
And having solemnly discharged this Parthian dart, she left the room.
In truth, the two girls were excellent friends, although they were continually sparring. Evelyn considered Lucy an absolute fraud in the capacity of "learned women," but she did not on that account find the light-hearted medical student any the less desirable as a companion. As to comparing her with Mona, Evelyn would have laughed at the bare idea; and loyal little Lucy would have been the first to join in the laugh: she had never allowed any one even to suspect that she had passed an examination in which Mona had failed. Mona was the centre of the system in which she was a satellite; she was bitterly jealous of all the other satellites in their relation to the centre, but who would be jealous of the sun?