Morgana glanced at her, and the flash of her eyes had the grey-blue
of lightning. Then she poured out the coffee and tasted it.

"Not bad!" she commented--"Did you make it?"

Manella nodded, and went on talking at random.

"I daresay it's not as good as it ought to be"--she said--"If you
had brought your own maid I should have asked HER to make it. Women
of your class like their food served differently to us poor folk,
and I don't know their ways."

Morgana laughed.

"You quaint, handsome thing! What do you know about it? What, in
your opinion, IS my class?"

Manella pulled nervously at the ends of the bright coloured kerchief
she wore knotted across her bosom, and hesitated a moment.

"Well, for one thing you are rich"--she said, at last--"There is no
mistaking that. Your lovely clothes--you must spend a fortune on
them! Then--all the people here wonder at your automobile--and your
chauffeur says it is the most perfect one ever made! And all these
riches make you think you ought to have everything just as you fancy
it. I suppose you ought--I'm not sure! I don't believe you have much
feeling,--you couldn't, you know! It is not as if you wanted
something very badly and there was no chance of your getting it,--
your money would buy all you could desire. It would even buy you a
man!"