“I fancy that the most desirable way,” said Alicia, glancing at the door.
“Don't you believe it. The best way is to come out of it, to grow out of it. Then all the rest has the charm of novelty and the value of contrast, and the distinction of being the best. You, poor dear, were born an artificial flower in a cardboard box. But you couldn't help it.”
“Everybody doesn't grow out of it.” The concentration in Alicia's eyes returned again with vacillating wings.
“She can't be here for a quarter of an hour yet.” The slipper dropped at this point, and Hilda stooped to put it on again. She kept her foot in her hands, and regarded it pensively.
“Shoes are the one thing one shouldn't buy in the native quarter,” she continued; “at all events, ready-made.”
“You have an audacity—” Alicia ended abruptly in a wan smile.
“Haven't I? Are you quite sure he wants to marry her?”
“I know it.”
“From him?”
“From him.”