"About Jack? How can I, Agatha? Is he not my first friend?"
She did not blush; she did not hesitate; she looked frankly in Agatha's face. The light of love which the elder lady expected was not there yet.
"Changed as you are, my dear, in some things, you are only a child still," said Agatha.
"Am I only a child?" asked Phillis. "Tell me why you say so now, dear Agatha. Is it because I am fond of Jack?"
"No, dear," Mrs. L'Estrange laughed. What was to be said to this jeune ingénue? "Not quite that."
"I have learned a great deal—oh, a great deal—since I came here. How ignorant I was! How foolish!"
"What have you learned, Phillis?"
"Well, about people. They are not all so interesting as they seemed at first. Agatha, it seems like a loss not to think so much of people as I did. Some are foolish, like the poor curate—are all curates foolish, I wonder?—some seem to say one thing and mean another, like Mr. Cassilis; some do not seem to care for anything in the world except dancing; some talk as if china was the only thing worth living for; but some are altogether lovely and charming, like yourself, my dear."
"Go on, Phillis, and tell me more."
"Shall I? I am foolish, perhaps, but most of our visitors have disappointed me. How can people talk about china as if the thing could be felt, like a picture? What is it they like so much in dancing and skating-rinks, and they prefer them to music and painting, and—and—the beautiful river?"