This was more agreeable to Carter, perhaps, than to her companion, for he found any further tête-à-tête with her impossible, and, to make up for it, he asked her, on leaving, if he could see her to-morrow at some appointed hour. She said yes, certainly, and fixed the time. Gladys, who happened to be standing not far off, heard this.
When Carter went to her room that night, she looked long, and with great satisfaction at the image which the cheval glass reflected. She knew that she was pretty, but, indeed, she had never dreamed that she could look so charming as this. Money was a wonderful thing, and she would not be able in the future to wear such clothes as these, and she did like them! She liked admiration, too, and to-night she had had it unstintedly. Whence was it, then, that came this sense of lack, of wanting, of imperfectness? She felt it, to a degree that positively oppressed her, and as she doffed her brave attire and made herself ready for bed she could scarcely keep the tears out of her eyes. Two, at least, refused to be suppressed and lay wet upon her cheek as she finally fell asleep.
Next morning, when she joined her three cousins in their upstairs sitting-room, a very smiling welcome greeted her.
“We were just talking of you, Carter,” Gladys said, “and of how well you looked last night. Jim Stafford thought so, evidently! And, by the way, we were wondering how much you really know about Jim Stafford.”
“I don’t know a great deal,” Carter answered. “Very little, in fact, except that he is very kind and nice; and also, as I hear, very rich.”
“Do you know how rich?” said Gladys, with solemnity.
“No! How should I?” said Carter, looking rather wondering.
“I don’t know myself,” said Gladys, “but it’s a great many millions in money; besides a superb house, horses, carriages, pictures, and all sorts of things.”
“And a house at Newport,” put in Ethel, “a simply magnificent place!”
“And a yacht that is absolute perfection!” said Rosamond.