"She has many friends," said Ashe.
"She is not received. When I speak of her no one answers me. Lady Grosville asked me here—me—out of charity. It would be thought a disgrace to marry me—"
"Look here, Lady Kitty!—"
"And I"—she wrung her small hands, as though she clasped the necks of her enemies—"I would never look at a man who did not think it the glory of his life to win me. So you see, I shall never marry. But then the dreadful thing is—"
She let him see a white, stormy face.
"That I have no loyalty to maman—I—I don't think I even love her."
Ashe surveyed her gravely.
"You don't mean that," he said.
"I think I do," she persisted. "I had a horrid childhood. I won't tell tales; but, you see, I don't know maman. I know the Soeurs much better. And then for some one you don't know—to have to—to have to bear—this horrible thing—"
She buried her face in her hands. Ashe looked at her in perplexity.