"No, but he is of my mother's. What must you think of me? What do you think of me?"
Charmian put her hand impulsively on Miss Fleet's arm.
"I didn't know till I came here. I thought I disliked him, I almost thought I hated him."
"That's always a bad sign, I believe," said Miss Fleet.
"Yes, I know. But he doesn't hate me. He doesn't think about me. He's mother's friend and not even my enemy. Do tell me, Miss Fleet—or may I call you Susan to-day?"
"Of course, and to-morrow, too."
"Thank you. You've seen lots of people. Do you think I have personality? Do you think I—am I just like everyone else? That's such a hideous idea! Have I anything that stamps me? Am I a little different from all the other girls—you know, in our sort of set? Do tell me!"
There was something humble in her quivering eagerness that quite touched Susan Fleet.
"No, I don't think you're just like everyone else."
"You aren't. And he isn't. He's not in the least like any other man I ever saw. That's the dreadful part of it. I can't imagine why I care for him, and that's why I know I shall never care for anyone else."