"I cannot support the idea that you will never come again," mourned the elder. "It is years since I have known a girl like you—a girl who can say things. I can make no headway with girls in general. They are so big and silent and athletic. They wear pins and badges, and belong to more things than I have ever heard of!"
Miss Benedet laughed. "I am silent, too, sometimes," she said.
"But you are not dense!"
"I'm afraid you go very much to extremes in your likes and dislikes, dear lady, and you are much younger than I, you know."
"I am quite aware of that," said Mrs. Thorne. "You have had seven years of Europe to my twenty of Cathay."
"Dear Cathay!" the girl murmured, with moist eyes; "I could live in this place forever."
"Where have you lived? Tell me in how many cities of the world."
"Oh, we never lived. We stayed in places for one reason or another. We were two years in Vienna. I worked there. I was a pupil of Leschetizky."
"What!"
"Did I not tell you? I can play a little."