"What else, then? That's intensely characteristic."

Mrs. Alsager reflected, looking down at the fire; she had the air of
having half-a-dozen reasons to choose from. But the one she produced
was unexpectedly simple; it might even have been prompted by despair
at not finding others. "I like her because YOU made her!" she
exclaimed with a laugh, moving again away from her companion.

Wayworth laughed still louder. "You made her a little yourself.
I've thought of her as looking like you."

"She ought to look much better," said Mrs. Alsager. "No, certainly,
I shouldn't do what SHE does."

"Not even in the same circumstances?"

"I should never find myself in such circumstances. They're exactly
your play, and have nothing in common with such a life as mine.
However," Mrs. Alsager went on, "her behaviour was natural for HER,
and not only natural, but, it seems to me, thoroughly beautiful and
noble. I can't sufficiently admire the talent and tact with which
you make one accept it, and I tell you frankly that it's evident to
me there must be a brilliant future before a young man who, at the
start, has been capable of such a stroke as that. Thank heaven I can
admire Nona Vincent as intensely as I feel that I don't resemble
her!"

"Don't exaggerate that," said Allan Wayworth.