"I see—a sort of compromise?"
"Exactly. Society, my child, is based on compromise."
"Very well, then, I'll write him a note."
She wrote it, and sent Robert with it to the library.
"I suppose," said she, "it's about time to dress for dinner?"
"Don't make yourself too pretty, dear."
Lucia looked back through the doorway.
"I shall make myself as pretty as ever I can. He has had nothing but ugly things to look at all his life."
Miss Palliser apostrophized the departing figure of her friend.
"Oh Lucy, Lucy, what an angelic little fool you are!"