long tour, we lived for a time at a hotel in Mentone--our own little
house was let--and I used to talk to people there--though papa never
liked making friends. And I made ridiculous mistakes about English
things--and they'd laugh. But one can't know--unless one has
_lived_--has breathed in a country, from one's birth. That's what
I've lost."

Mrs. Colwood demurred.

"Think of the people who wish they had grown up without ever reading or
hearing about the Bible, so that they might read it for the first time,
when they could really understand it. You _feel_ England all the more
intensely now because you come fresh to her."

Diana sprang up, with a change of face--half laugh, half frown.

"Yes, I feel her! Above all, I feel her enemies!"

She let in her dog, a fine collie, who was scratching at the door. As
she stood before the fire, holding up a biscuit for him to jump at, she
turned a red and conscious face towards her companion. The fire in the
eyes, the smile on the lip seemed to say:

"There!--now we have come to it. This is my passion--my hobby--this is
_me_!"

"Her enemies! You are political?"

"Desperately!"