"You do not. You may be playing a game--she does nothing. She is
terrified--out of her life."

"She is very silly. It's funny how silly she is. I like her to be
frightened."

Mary's nurse told Mary's mother that, in her opinion, Sarah was not a
nice child. But Sarah had been invited to tea at the confused, simple
abode of the Kitson family, and had behaved perfectly.

"I think you must be wrong, nurse," said Mrs. Kitson. "She seems a very
nice little girl. Mary needs companions. It's good for her to be taken
out of herself."

Had Mrs. Kitson been of a less confused mind, however, had she had more
time for the proper observation of her daughter, she would have noticed
her daughter's pale cheeks, her daughter's fits of crying, her
daughter's silences. Even as the bird is fascinated by the snake, so was
Mary Kitson fascinated by Sarah Trefusis.

"You are torturing that infant," said Hortense, and Sarah smiled.


IV

Mary was by no means the first of Sarah's victim's. There had been many
others. Utterly aloof, herself, from all emotions of panic or terror, it
had, from the very earliest age, interested her to see those passions at
work in others. Cruelty for cruelty's sake had no interest for her at