"Quite—nameless," said the girl under her breath.
A little flash of mist confused Miss Palliser's eyesight for a moment; her senses warned her, but her heart was calling.
"Dear," she said, "I could love you very easily."
Shiela looked her straight in the eyes.
"What you give I can return; no more, no less—"
But already Constance Palliser had lifted the girl's smooth hand to her lips, murmuring: "Pride! pride! It is the last refuge for social failures, Shiela. And you are too wise to enter there, too sweet and wholesome to remain. Leave us our obsolete pride, child; God knows we need something in compensation for all that you possess."
Later they sipped their tea together. "I always wanted you to like me," said the girl. Her glance wandered toward Hamil so unconsciously that Constance caught her breath. But the spell was on her still; she, too, looked at Hamil; admonition, prejudice, inculcated precept, wavered hazily.
"Because I care so much for Mr. Hamil," continued the girl innocently.
For one instant, in her inmost intelligence, Miss Palliser fiercely questioned that innocence; then, convinced, looked questioningly at the girl beside her. So questioningly that Shiela answered:
"What?"—as though the elder woman had spoken.