"And you would cultivate the one at the expense of the other?"

"In certain cases--and up to a certain point." She shook out the long fur
of her muff, one of those silvery flexible furs which clothe a woman with a
delicate sumptuousness. Everything about her, at the moment, seemed rich
and cold--everything, as Mrs. Peyton quickly noted, but the blush lingering
under her dark skin; and so complete was the girl's self-command that the
blush seemed to be there only because it had been forgotten.

"I dare say you think me strange," she continued. "Most people do, because
I speak the truth. It's the easiest way of concealing one's feelings. I
can, for instance, talk quite openly about Mr. Peyton under shelter of your
inference that I shouldn't do so if I were what is called 'interested' in
him. And as I _am_ interested in him, my method has its advantages!"
She ended with one of the fluttering laughs which seemed to flit from point
to point of her expressive person.

Mrs. Peyton leaned toward her. "I believe you are interested," she said
quietly; "and since I suppose you allow others the privilege you claim for
yourself, I am going to confess that I followed you here in the hope of
finding out the nature of your interest."

Miss Verney shot a glance at her, and drew away in a soft subsidence of
undulating furs.

"Is this an embassy?" she asked smiling.

"No: not in any sense."

The girl leaned back with an air of relief. "I'm glad; I should have