Millie flushed and answered slowly: "How do you know I'm so good? How do you know I know nothing about life? Perhaps I have deceived myself over this love affair. It was my first: I gave him all I could. Perhaps you're right. If I'd loved him more I'd have given him everything. . . . But I don't know. Is it being a District Visitor to respect yourself and him? Is the body more important than anything else? I don't call myself good. . . . I don't call myself bad. It's only the different values we put on things."
Clare looked at her curiously. "Perhaps you're right," she said. "Physical love when that's all there is, is terribly disappointing—an awful sell. I could have been a friend of yours if I'd been younger. There! Get up a moment—stand over there. I want to look at you!"
Millie got up, crossed the room and stood, her arms at her side, her eyes gravely watching.
Clare sat up, leaning on her elbow. "Yes, you're lovely. Men will be crazy about you—you'd better marry Peter quickly. And you're fine too. There's spirit in you. Move your arm. So! Now turn your head. . . . Ah, that's good! That's good! . . ."
She suddenly turned, buried her face in the cushions and burst into tears. Millie ran across to her and put her arms round her. Clare lay for a moment, her body shaken with sobs. Then she pushed her away.
"No, no. I don't want petting. It's only—what it all might have been. You're so young: it's all before you. It's over for me—over, over!"
She gave her one more long look.
"Now go," she said, "go quickly—or I'll want to poison you. Leave me alone——"
Millie took her hat and coat and went out into the rain.