"Do you think I'm nice?"
Jane laughed. "Yes, as it happens, I do."
"Ah, you—you——"
"We both do," said Jane boldly.
"You're the first nice woman I've known who hasn't been horrid to me. And he——" Kitty had been playing with a button of her dressing-gown. Her fingers now began tearing, passionately, convulsively, at the button. "He is the first nice man who—who hasn't been what men are."
"You don't mean that," said Jane calmly. She was holding Mrs. Tailleur's hand in hers and caressing it, soothing its pathetic violence.
"I do. I do. That's why I like you so."
"I'd give anything to know what you really think of me."
"May I say what I think?"