e mixed up with it.

And then, from that, Trix turned to a somewhat more detailed
consideration of Pia's position. One point presented itself quite
definitely and clearly to her. It was certainly evident from that
memorable letter of Pia's, that she _did_ regard this man as a social
inferior, from which fact it was entirely plain that she had no smallest
notion of his real identity. Trix clasped her hands beneath her chin,
shut her eyes, and plunged yet deeper into her reflections. They were
becoming even more intricate.

Now, would it be a comfort to Pia to know that this man was by birth her
social equal, or would it, in view of the fact that he had in some way
shown her what she had called "a glimpse of the hairy hoof," appear to
her an added insult. Trix pondered the question deeply, turning it in her
mind, and sighing prodigiously more than once in the process.

And then, all at once, she opened her eyes. Where, after all, was the use
of troubling her head on that score. Comfort or not, who was to tell Pia?
Most assuredly Trix couldn't. She had considered that question already,
weeks ago in fact, and answered it in the negative. Of course it was
quite possible that she was being somewhat over-sensitive and
ultra-scrupulous on the subject. But there it was. It was the way she
regarded matters.

Trix sighed deeply. It was all terribly perplexing, and Tibby's letter
was quite horribly pathetic. Anyhow she would go down to Woodleigh as
soon as she possibly could.

She had been so entirely engrossed with her reflections, that she had
quite forgotten the passing of time. It was with a start of surprise,
therefore, that she heard the door open. At the selfsame moment the clock
on the mantelpiece chimed the hour of midnight. Trix got to her feet.

"My dearest," exclaimed Mrs. Arbuthnot, "not gone to bed yet! And all the
beauty sleep before midnight, they tell us. Not that you need it except
in the way of preservation, dearest. For I always did tell you,
regardless of making you conceited which I do not think I do do, that I
have admired you from the time you were in your cradle. Well, food is the
next best thing to sleep, so come and have a sandwich and some sherry. I
am famished, positively famished. And I ate an excellent dinner, I know;
but Bridge is always hungry work. Bring the tray to the fire, dearest. I
see James has put it all ready. And ham, which I adore. It may be
indigestible, though I never believe it w