“Fancy that!” his companion gasped; and she instantly obtained the Princess’s address from him and made a note of it in a small shabby pocket-book. She mentioned that the card the Princess had given her in Camberwell exhibited in fact no address, and he recognised that vagary—the Princess was so off-hand. Then she said, hesitating a little: “Does she really care for the poor?”
“If she doesn’t,” the young man replied, “I can’t imagine what interest she has in pretending to.”
“If she does she’s very remarkable—she deserves great honour.”
“You really care—so why is she more remarkable than you?” Hyacinth demanded.
“Oh it’s very different—she’s so wonderfully attractive!” Lady Aurora replied, making recklessly the one allusion to the oddity of her own appearance in which he was destined to hear her indulge. She became conscious of it the moment she had spoken, and said quickly, to turn it off: “I should like to talk with her, but I’m rather afraid. She’s tremendously clever.”
“Ah what she is—‘tremendously’—you’ll find out when you know her!” he could but all portentously sigh.
His hostess looked at him a little and then vaguely returned: “How very interesting!” The next moment she continued: “She might do so many other things. She might charm the world.”
“She does that, whatever she does,” Hyacinth smiled. “It’s all by the way; it needn’t interfere.”
“That’s what I mean, that most other people would be content—beautiful as she is. There’s great merit when you give up something.”
“She has known a great many bad people and she wants to know some good,” he explained. “Therefore be sure to go to her soon.”