"Is she really as good as Hester says she is?" continued Nora.
"Yes, yes, better; no one quite knows how good she is."
"I shall be afraid of her," said Nora shuddering. "I hate such perfectly good people; they make me feel small and mean."
Annie took up a basket of flowers, and began deftly to form them into wreaths for the further decoration of the ball-room.
"It's dreadful to feel mean," she said almost in a whisper.
"You can't surely know what it means," replied Nora.
"Oh, can't I though; don't let's talk of it any more. I like you in white, Nora. White, toned with lace and coloured ribbons, makes a charming dress for you. You have such a pretty face. It is so full of esprit—so piquant. Some day you will be a beautiful woman."
"As beautiful as you are?" asked Nora. "I don't desire to be more beautiful than you."
"In some ways you will be more beautiful," replied Annie. "I don't pretend that I am not pretty, I know I am; but in some ways you will be superior to me. You will have a greater air of distinction. Noblesse oblige will be abundantly manifested in you. Oh, yes," continued Annie, "it is all very fine for us parvenus to despise race. We don't really despise it; we adore it, we envy it; we can never, never, never get what race confers."