“Child, child,” she murmured, “you do not know how much of a man a man can be!”
“Yes, I do!” said Sylvia hotly.
Leila smiled. “Hush, you little silly! I've talked Stephen and praised Stephen to you for days and days, and the moment I dare mention another man you fly at me, hair on end!”
“Oh, Leila, I know it! I'm perfectly mad about him, that's all. But don't you think he is looking like himself again? And, Leila, isn't he strangely attractive?—I don't mean just because I happen to be in love with him, but give me a perfectly cold and unbiassed opinion, dear, because there is simply no use in a girl's blinding herself to facts, or in ignoring certain fixed laws of symmetry, which it is perfectly obvious that Mr. Siward fulfils in those well-known and established proportions which—”
“Sylvia!”
“What?” she asked, startled.
“Nothing. Only for two solid weeks—”
“Of course, if you are not interested—”
“But I am, child—I am! desperately interested! He is handsome! I knew him before you did, and I thought so then!”
“Did you?” said Sylvia, troubled.