Ashe moved impatiently.
"Lady Kitty, I don't like to hear you talk like this. It's wild, and it's also—I beg your pardon—"
"In bad taste?" she said, catching him up breathlessly. "That's what you meant, isn't it? You said it to me before, when I called you handsome."
"Pshaw!" he said, in vexation. She watched him throw himself back and feel for his cigarette-case; a gesture of her hand gave him leave; she waited, smiling, till he had taken a few calming whiffs. Then she gently moved towards him.
"Don't be angry with me!" she said, in a sweet, low voice. "Don't you understand how hard it is—to have that nature—and then to come here out of the convent—where one had lived on dreams—and find one's self—"
She turned her head away. Ashe put down his new-lit cigarette.
"Find yourself?" he repeated.
"Everybody scorns me!" she said, her brow drooping.
Ashe exclaimed.
"You know it's true. My mother is not received. Can you deny that?"