But it's disloyal, I suppose."
"Well, I suppose it is."
She laughed. "That's what Mr. Blair means," she said. "You must have
seen that I wanted you to say 'No, it isn't.' Perhaps you would have to
anybody else. You were always one of the people who attributed all the
virtues to me. You made it so hard for me to be good. I loathed the girl
you thought I was. One comfort is that as I am now----". Suddenly her
eyes met his; she stopped. "We'd better talk about 'we' again," she
ended with a laugh.
"Whom do you talk to?" he asked curiously.
"About 'we'? I talk to Miss Quisante--You've met her? She's never tired
of talking about 'we'--though she doesn't like us; but she doesn't care
a bit to talk about me."
"Have a confidante," he suggested gravely.
"Yes--like Tilburina. Who shall I have?"
A run through their acquaintance suggested only Mrs. Gellatly, and her
May rejected as being too suitable, too much the traditional confidante.
"I should like one who might possibly have something to tell me in
return, and she never could," she said.
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