aid that Oxford didn't care about titles? When did any of those
people ever take any notice of us?"

"It isn't titles--it's Connie!" said Nora stoutly. "It's because she's
handsome and clever--and yet she isn't conceited; she's always
interested in other people. And she's an orphan--and people were very
fond of her mother. And she talks scrumptiously about Italy. And she's
new--and there's a bit of romance in it--and--well, there it is!"

And Nora pulled off a twig from the banksia rose outside, and began to
chew it energetically with her firm white teeth, by way of assisting
her thoughts.

"Isn't conceited!" repeated Alice with contempt. "Connie is as proud as
Lucifer."

"I didn't say she wasn't. But she isn't vain."

Alice laughed.

"Can't you see the difference?" said Nora impatiently. "'Proud' means
'Don't be such a fool as to imagine that I'm thinking of you!'--'Vain'
means 'I wonder dreadfully what you're thinking of me?'"

"Well then, Connie is both proud and vain," said Alice with decision.

"I don't mean she doesn't know she's rich, and good-looking and run
after," said Nora, beginning to flounder. "But half the time, anyway,
she forgets it."

"Except when she is talking to men," said Alice vindictively, to which
Mrs. Hooper added with her little obstinate air--

"Any girl who likes admiration as much as Connie does must be vain. Of
course, I don't blame her."

"Likes admiration? Hm," said Nora, still chewing at her twig. "Yes, I
suppose she does. But she's good at snubbing, too." And she threw a
glance at her sister. She was thinking of a small evening party the
night before, at which, it seemed to her, Connie had several times
snubbed Herbert Pryce rather severely. Alice said nothing. She knew what
Nora meant. But that Connie should despise what she had filched away
only made things worse.

Mrs. Hooper sighed again--loudly.

"The point is--is she carrying on with that man, Mr. Falloden?"

Nora looked up indignantly. Her mother's vulgarity tormented her.

"How can she be 'carrying on,' mother? He won't be in Oxford again till
his schools."

"Oh, you never know," said Mrs. Hooper vaguely. "Well, I must go and
answer these notes."

She went away. Nora descended gloomily from the window-sill.

"Mother wants a new dress. If we don't all look out, we shall be in
Queer Street again."

"You're always so dismal," said Alice impatiently. "Things are a great
deal better than they were."

"Well