perfect lady, in exchange for a comfortable home, am I?'

'No, indeed,' said Hyacinth fervently.

'No-one can speak of me as "that pleasant, cultivated creature who lives
with Miss Verney," can they?'

'Not, at any rate, if they have any regard for truth,' said Hyacinth.

'I wish you wouldn't make me laugh. Why should I have a sense of humour?
I sometimes think that all your friends imagine it's part of my duty to
shriek with laughter at their wretched jokes. It wasn't in the contract.
If I were pretty, my ambition would have been to be an adventuress; but
an adventuress with no adventures would be a little flat. I might have
the worst intentions, but I should never have the chance of carrying
them out. So I try to be as much as possible like Thackeray's shabby
companion in a dyed silk.'

'Is that why you wear a sackcloth blouse trimmed with ashes?' said
Hyacinth, with curiosity.

'No, that's merely stinginess. It's my nature to be morbidly economical,
though I know I needn't be. If I hadn't had L500 a year left me, I
should never have been able to come and live here, and drop all my
horrid relations. I enjoy appearing dependent and being a spectator, and
I've absolutely given up all interest in my own affairs. In fact, I
haven't got any. And I take the keenest interest in other
people's--romances. Principally, of course, in yours.'

'I'm sure I don't want you to be so vicarious as all that--thanks