“Yes—isn’t it?” said Pauline, but she spoke in a low voice, and pulled Fanchon a little aside. “Don’t speak of it, please,” she said. “I often feel that I oughtn’t to wear it.”
“Do you, indeed?” said Fanchon, “I can’t understand why. It looks most elegant, and it gives such tone, doesn’t it, now?”
“I don’t know anything about that,” said Pauline; “it is just a pretty little ornament. Mother gave it to me.”
“Well, I’m sure you ought to wear what your mother gave you. It must be so sweet to get presents of that kind; why don’t you like to?”
“I will tell you, if you’ll not say anything about it, and at the same time, when I tell you, I want you to promise me something.”
Fanchon coloured with delight. Pauline belonged to the county, and there was quite a subtle difference between her and Miss Fanchon Amberley, which that young lady herself appreciated, struggled against, and detested, all at the same time.
“Of course I won’t tell,” she said, “it is very nice of you to trust me. Have you a secret? It seems to me that most people have.”
“Oh dear, no; I haven’t any secret in all the world,” said Pauline. “I wouldn’t; it’d be too horrid.”
“Then why mustn’t I tell what you say?”
“Because it would hurt my darling Nellie?”