inasmuch as I have certainly seen more of it!'

Polly sank into a camp-chair, too stunned for a moment to reply,
while Laura, who had gone quite beyond the point where she knew or
cared what she said, went on with a rush of words: 'I mean to tell
you, now that I am started, that anybody who isn't blind can see why
you toady to the Winships, who have money and social position, and
why you are so anxious to keep everybody else from getting into their
good graces; but they are so partial to you that they have given you
an entirely false idea of yourself; and you might as well know that
unless you keep yourself a little more in the background, and grow a
little less bold and affected and independent, other people will not
be quite as ready as the Winships to make a pet of a girl whose
mother keeps a boarding-house.'

Poor Laura! It was no sooner said than she regretted it--a little,
not much. But poor Polly! Where was her good angel then? Why could
she not have treated this thrust with the silence and contempt it
deserved? But how could Laura have detected and probed the most
sensitive spot in the girl's nature? She lost all command of
herself. Her rage absolutely frightened her, for it made her deaf
and blind to all considerations of propriety and self-respect, and
for a moment she was only conscious of the wild desire to strike--
yes, even to kill--the person who had so insulted all that was
dearest to her.

'Don't dare to say another word!' she panted, with such flaming
cheeks and such flashing eyes that Laura involuntarily retreated
towards the door, half afraid of the tempest her words had evoked.
'Don't dare to say another word, or I don't know what I may do! Yes,