Diana stared at her in undisguised amazement, the quick colour rushing into her face as it always did when she was startled or surprised.
"But—but why?" she stammered.
"I can't tell you why. Only take my advice and leave her alone."
"But I thought her delightful," protested Diana. "And"—wistfully—"I haven't many friends in London."
"Miss de Gervais isn't quite all she seems. And your art should be your friend—you don't need any other."
Diana laughed.
"You talk like old Baroni himself! But indeed I do want friends—I haven't nearly reached the stage when art can take the place of nice human people."
Miss Lermontof regarded her dispassionately.
"That's only because you're young—horribly young and warm-hearted."
"You talk as if you yourself were a near relation of
Methuselah!"—laughing.