“And pray what are you, Constance?” retorted the other. “A fair divided excellence or an excellence all by yourself, or what? If you find pleasure in contemplating a deep romantic attachment, think a little more of Mr. Northcott. He is the type of a gentleman, if you like—brave and gentle, and without stain. And how was he rewarded for his devotion? At all events he did not look quite like a conquering hero when he went away.”
Constance reddened. “He is everything you say, Mary—you can't say more in praise of him than he deserves; but you have no right to assume what you do, and if you can't keep such absurd fancies out of your head, I think you might refrain from expressing them.”
“But, Constance dear, what harm can there be in expressing them?” said Fan. “They are not absurd fancies any more than what you were saying just now. I am quite sure that Mr. Northcott is very fond of you.”
“That is your opinion, Fan; but I would rather you found some other subject of conversation.”
“No doubt,” said Mary, not disposed to let her off so easily; “but let me warn you first that unless you treat Mr. Northcott better in future there will be a split in the Cabinet, and Fan, I think, will be on my side.”
“I certainly shall,” said Fan.
“In that case,” said Constance with dignity, “I shall try to bear it.”
“We'll boycott you,” said Mary.
“And refuse to read your books,” said Fan.
“And tell everyone that the creator of tender-hearted heroines is anything but tender-hearted herself.”