“I—I don’t know,” she admitted. “Really, this is ridiculous, preposterous. If I apply to myself my own test, I can swear truthfully that I am fonder of myself than Arthur. There!”
Cicely returned to her chair, sank into it, and stared at the carpet. This was one of her tricks, an idiosyncrasy that occasionally exasperated Lady Selina. She went into the same sort of trance that afflicted Lord Saltaire when he found a hair in his soup. Cicely had found a hair in her soup.
Tiddy could not guess that the two Cicelys were locked together at strangle-grips—a fight to a finish.
She cooled herself for the third time at the window.
IV
Minutes, hours, years glided by.
What a tiresome world it was!
Presently Cicely sighed. Tiddy exclaimed maliciously:
“The sleeping Beauty wakes after a trance of one hundred years.”
“Yes, I am awake,” replied Cicely tranquilly.