herself out she could naturally
best do so by putting in somebody else. She accordingly put in Kate
Croy, being ready to that extent--as she was not at all afraid for
her--to sacrifice her if necessary. Lord Mark himself, for that matter,
had made it easy by saying a little while before that no one among them
did anything for nothing. "What then"--she was aware of being
abrupt--"does Miss Croy, if she's so interested, do it for? What has
she to gain by _her_ lovely welcome? Look at her _now!"_ Milly broke
out with characteristic freedom of praise, though pulling herself up
also with a compunctious "Oh!" as the direction thus given to their
eyes happened to coincide with a turn of Kate's face to them. All she
had meant to do was to insist that this face was fine; but what she had
in fact done was to renew again her effect of showing herself to its
possessor as conjoined with Lord Mark for some interested view of it.
He had, however, promptly met her question.

"To gain? Why, your acquaintance."

"Well, what's my acquaintance to her? She can care for me--she must
feel that--only by being sorry for me; and that's why she's lovely: to
be already willing to take the trouble to be. It's the height of the
disinterested."

There were more things in this than one that Lord Mark might have taken
up; but in a minute he had made his choice. "Ah then, I'm nowhere, for
I'm afraid _I'm_ not sorry for you in the least. What do you make
then," he asked, "of your success?"

"Why, just the great reason of all. It's just because our friend there
sees it that she pities me. She understands," Milly said; "she's better
than any of you. She's beautiful."

He appeared struck with this at last--with the point the girl made of
it; to which she came back even after a diversion created by a dish
presented between them. "Beautiful in character, I see. _Is_ she so?
You must tell me about her."

Milly wondered. "But haven't you known her longer than I? Haven't you
seen her for yourself?"

"No--I've failed with her. It's no use. I don't make her out. And I
assure you I really should like to." His assurance had in fact for his
companion a positive suggestion of sincerity; he affected her as now
saying something that he felt; and she was the more struck with it as
she was still conscious of the failure even of curiosity he had just
shown in respect to herself. She had meant something--though indeed for
herself almost only--in speaking of their f