"Not a bit," Meg cried eagerly; "a person might be ever so trustworthy and yet not loyal. I take it that trustworthy and honest in tangible things are much the same. Loyalty is something intangible, and often means belief in people when everything seems against them. It's a much rarer quality than to be trustworthy. William would stick to one if one hadn't a crust, just because he liked to be there to make things a bit less wretched."
Miles smoked in silence for a minute, and again Meg closed her eyes.
"By the way," he said presently, "I didn't know you and my cousin Pen were friends. I met her in the Park the day before yesterday. Her hair's rather the same colour as yours—handsome woman, isn't she?"
Meg opened her eyes and turned crimson. Had the outspoken Lady Pen said anything about her hair, she wondered.
Miles, noting the sudden blush, put it down to Lady Pen's knowledge of what had happened at the Trents, and the miserable feelings of doubt and apprehension came surging back.
"She's quite lovely," said Meg.
"A bit too much on the big side, don't you think?"
"I admire big women."
Silence fell again. Meg pulled the rug up under her chin.
Surely it was not quite so warm as a few minutes ago.