Fanny took no notice. She entered her cousin's room, in Diana's wake.
"Well?" she said, interrogatively. She leaned her back against the wardrobe, and folded her arms.
Diana turned. She met Fanny's black eyes, sparkling with excitement.
"I'll give you my news at dinner," said Diana, flushing against her will. "And I want to know how you liked Miss Drake."
Fanny's eyes shot fire.
"That's all very fine! That means, of course, that you're not going to tell me anything!"
"Fanny!" cried Diana, helplessly. She was held spellbound by the passion, the menace in the girl's look. But the touch of shrinking in her attitude roused brutal violence in Fanny.
"Yes, it does!" she said, fiercely. "I understand!--don't I! I am not good enough for you, and you'll make me feel it. You're going to make a smart marriage, and you won't care whether you ever set eyes on any of us again. Oh! I know you've given us money--or you say you will. If I knew which side my bread was buttered, I suppose I should hold my tongue.--But when you treat me like the dirt under your feet--when you tell everything to that woman Mrs. Colwood, who's no relation, and nothing in the world to you--and leave me kicking my heels all alone, because I'm not the kind you want, and you wish to goodness I'd never come--when you show as plain as you can that I'm a common creature--not fit to pick up your gloves!--I tell you I just won't stand it. No one would--who knew what I know!"
The last words were flung in Diana's teeth with all the force that wounded pride and envious wrath could give them. Diana tottered a little. Her hand clung to the dressing-table behind her.
"What do you know?" she said. "Tell me at once--what you mean."