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"Nanda's in love with old Van?"—the degree to which she had never suspected was scarce to be expressed. "Why he's twice her age—he has seen her in a pinafore with a dirty face and well slapped for it: he has never thought of her in the world."

"How can a person of your acuteness, my dear woman," Mitchy asked, "mention such trifles as having the least to do with the case? How can you possibly have such a fellow about, so beastly good-looking, so infernally well turned out in the way of 'culture,' and so bringing them down in short on every side, and expect in the bosom of your family the absence of history of the reigns of the good kings? If YOU were a girl wouldn't YOU turn purple? If I were a girl shouldn't I—unless, as is more likely, I turned green?"

Mrs. Brookenham was deeply affected. "Nanda does turn purple—?"

"The loveliest shade you ever saw. It's too absurd that you haven't noticed."

It was characteristic of Mrs. Brookenham's amiability that, with her sudden sense of the importance of this new light, she should be quite ready to abase herself. "There are so many things in one's life. One follows false scents. One doesn't make out everything at once. If you're right you must help me. We must see more of her."