"Don't be odiously smart. He and Stephen"—her glance was tentative—"have made it up."
"Oh!"
"He admits now that Stephen was justified, from his point of view. But of course that is easy enough when you have come off best."
"Of course."
"Hilda, what do you think?"
"Oh, I think it's damnable—you have always known what I think. Have you seen him lately—I mean your cousin?"
"He lunched with us yesterday. He was more enthusiastic than ever about you."
"I wish you could tell me that he hadn't mentioned my name. I don't want his enthusiasm. The pit gives one that."
"Hilda, tell me; what is your idea of—of what it ought to be? What is the principal part of it? Not enthusiasm—adoration?"
"Goodness, no! Something quite different and quite simple—too simple to explain. Besides, it is a thing that requires the completest ignorance to discuss comfortably. Do you want me to vivisect my soul? You yourself, can you talk about what most possesses you?"