"A what....?"
"Oh, when talk is about things we can't see, I call it 'beyondy.' I say—tell me, what—what are your besetting sins!" Then she laughed. "We'll play 'swops.' I'll tell you my sins one by one, if you'll tell me yours. Only you must begin. It will be splendid fun, and, as Lanky says—improving. She says one ought to know oneself. I suppose you—a grand Sixth Form boy—know yourself in all your moods and tenses. Give us a lead. It would be so nice to find that you are wickeder than I."
"I am," said Mark.
"No humbug—and 'bar chaff,' as dear Lanky would not say."
"I'm v-very ambitious, Betty."
She was lying full length on the grass. Now she sat up, opening her eyes very wide.
"Are you really? Ambitious—eh? That's very interesting. I'm not ambitious, not a bit. I'm greedy." As she spoke she set her pretty teeth in an apple. "I'm greedy, and I'm fond of lying in bed. Lanky says these are awful sins. Oh, dear, I've given you two sins to one. Never mind. Lanky says a woman ought to give more than she gets. I say, eat fair with the chocolate. You big boys pretend to despise sweets, but I notice they go jolly quick when you're about. Yes; greediness and sloth. It's horrid, but it's true. You see, I'm bound to be wicked."
"Why?"
"Mother was wicked. I know it. I heard Lady Randolph say—oh, years ago—that she hoped what was bad in the Kirtlings would kill what was worse in the De Courcys. I'm not sure what she meant, and I dared not ask her, because she thought I was looking at some photographs, but it wasn't complimentary—was it?"
"No," said Mark, getting rather red.