“No, no; not until I have thanked you and kissed you first,” said Sylvia.
Audrey did not wish Sylvia to kiss her, but she could not make any open objection. She scarcely returned the girl’s warm embrace, and the next moment had left the room.
“Is she not a horror?” said Evelyn. “I began by liking her—I mean I rather liked her. She had a grand sort of manner, and her eyes are handsome, but I hate her now. She is not half, nor quarter, as pretty as you are, Sylvia. And, oh, Sylvia, you will be my friend—my true, true friend—for I am so lonely now that mothery is dead!”
Sylvia was standing by the fire. There was a bright color in both her cheeks, and her eyes shone vividly.
“My mother died too,” she said. “I was happy while she lived. Yes, Eve, I will be your friend if you like.”
“It will be all the better for you,” said Evelyn, who could never long forget her own importance. “If I take to you there is no saying what may happen, for, whatever lies before me in the future, I am my Uncle Edward’s heiress; and Audrey, for all her pride, is nobody.”
“Audrey looks much more suitable,” said Sylvia, and then she stopped, partly amused and partly frightened by the look in Evelyn’s light-brown eyes.
“How dare you!” she cried. “How horrid—how horrid of you! After all, I do not know that I want to see too much of you. You had better be careful what sort of things you say to me. And first of all, if I am to see any more of you, you must tell me why Audrey would make a better heiress than I shall.”
“Oh, never mind,” said Sylvia; but then she added: “Why should I not tell you? She is tall and graceful and very, very lovely, and she has the manners of a grande dame although she is such a young girl. Any one in all the world can see that Audrey is to the manner born, whereas you——”
Evelyn looked almost frightened while Sylvia was talking.