"No," said Betty, calmly, looking straight at the lady in the tiara who was standing by the buffet, "she's not beautiful, and I've torn my dress running after her. There's only one beautiful person here to-night!"
Aldous found her a seat, and took one himself beside her, in a corner out of the press. But he did not answer her remark.
"Don't you think so, Mr. Aldous?" said Betty, persisting, but with a little flutter of the pulse.
"You mean Miss Boyce?" he said quietly, as he turned to her.
"Of course!" cried Betty, with a sparkle in her charming eyes; "what is it in her face? It excites me to be near her. One feels that she will just have lived twice as much as the rest of us by the time she comes to the end. You don't mind my talking of her, Mr. Aldous?"
There was an instant's silence on his part. Then he said in a constrained voice, looking away from his companion, "I don't mind it, but I am not going to pretend to you that I find it easy to talk of her."
"It would be a shame of you to pretend anything," said Betty, fervently, "after all I've told you! I confessed all my scrapes to you, turned out all my rubbish bag of a heart—well, nearly all"—she checked herself with a sudden flush—"And you've been as kind to me as any big brother could be. But you're dreadfully lofty, Mr. Aldous! You keep yourself to yourself. I don't think it's fair!"
Aldous laughed.
"My dear Miss Betty, haven't you found out by now that I am a good listener and a bad talker? I don't talk of myself or"—he hesitated—"the things that have mattered most to me—because, in the first place, it doesn't come easy to me—and, in the next, I can't, you see, discuss my own concerns without discussing other people's."
"Oh, good gracious!" said Betty, "what you must have been thinking about me! I declare I'll never tell you anything again!"—and, beating her tiny foot upon the ground, she sat, scarlet, looking down at it.