"Because I love him better than he loves himself," cried Hilda, in her vehement way; "because I know his value better than he does. O Dora, how could you like any one else better than Edward?"
"You must not ask me that, my darling. Those things cannot be explained. Fate willed it so."
"And I suppose you are very happy in your grand house?" said Hilda sullenly.
"I am very happy with the husband I love, Hilda. The grand house makes no difference. And now we are going to be good friends, aren't we, dear? and we are never going to talk of the past. How you have grown, Hilda!"
"Out of all my frocks," answered Hilda, glancing contemptuously at her ankles. "It is perfectly degrading never to have a frock long enough for one—and never to have one's waist in the right place. The dressmaker says I have no waist yet. Dressmakers are so insulting to girls of my age. I think I shall positively trample upon my dressmaker when I am grown up, to revenge myself for all I have suffered from the tribe."
"My Hilda, what an old-fashioned puss you have grown!"
"How can I help being old-fashioned? I never see any young people. Edward never comes to The Spaniards now. You have driven him away."
"Hilda, if we are to be friends—"
"Well, I won't say it again; but you have, you know. It is awfully dull at home. I suppose I may say that?"
"I hear you have a new governess. I hope you like her?"