"Ethelrida, you darling, I know you haven't!" and Anne bounded up and
gave her a hug. "And I knew you were perfectly happy, and had had a
blissful afternoon when you came down to tea yesterday. Your whole face
was changed, you pet!"

"Did I look so like a fool, Anne?" Ethelrida cried.

Then Lady Anningford laughed happily, as she answered with a roguish
eye,

"It was not exactly that, darling, but your dear cheeks were scarlet,
as though they had been exquisitely kissed!"

"Oh!" gasped Ethelrida, flaming pink, as she laughed and covered her
face with her hands.

"Perhaps he knows how to make love nicely--I am no judge of such
things--in any case, he makes me thrill. Anne, tell me, is that--that
curious sensation as though one were rather limp and yet quivering--is
that just how every one feels when they are in love?"

"Ethelrida, you sweet thing!" gurgled Anne.

Then Ethelrida told her friend about the present of books, and showed
them to her, and of all the subtlety of his ways, and how they appealed
to her.

"And oh, Anne, he makes me perfectly happy and sure of everything; and I
feel that I need never decide anything for myself again in my life!"