, because that bores
people; but she says witty, sharp things which sound as if they came out
of plays, or books, and you think back to see whether she deliberately
led up to them. For instance, she asked Sir Lionel, apropos of woman's
suffrage, whether, on the whole, he preferred a man's woman, or a
woman's woman?

"What's the difference?" he wanted to know.

"All the difference between a Gibson girl and an Ibsen girl," said she.
I wonder if she'd heard that, or made it up? Anyhow, when Sir Lionel
threw back his head and laughed, in an attractive way he has, which
shows a dent in his chin, I wished _I'd_ said it. But the more she
flashed out bright things, the more of a lump I was. I do think the one
unpardonable sin is dulness, and I felt guilty of it. She simply
vampired me. Sucked my wits dry. And, do you know, I'm afraid she's
going on the motor trip with us?

Sir Lionel doesn't dream of such a thing, but she does. And she's the
sort of person whose dreams, if they're about _men_, come true. Of
course, I don't know her well enough to hate her, but I feel it coming
on.

In books, all villainesses who're worth their salt have little, sharp
teeth and pointed nails. Mrs. Senter's teeth and nails are just like
other women's, only better. Book villainesses' hair is either red or
blue-black. Hers is pale gold, though her eyes are brown, and very soft
when they turn toward Sir Lionel. Nevertheless, though I'm _not_
cattish, except when absolutely necessary, I know she's a _pig_, never
happy unless she has the centre of the stage, whether it's _her_ part or
not--wanting everyone to feel the curtain rises when she comes on, and
falls when she goes off. She looks twenty-eight, so I suppose she's
thirty-five; but really she's most graceful. Standing up for Sir Lionel
to take off her cloak, her trailing gray satin dress twisted about her
feet, as some charming, slender trees stand with their bark spreading
out round them on the ground, and folding in lovely lines like drapery.

She managed to draw Mrs. Norton into conversation with her and Sir
Lionel, and to let Dick talk to me, so they must have arranged
beforehand what they would do. At first, when he had got his wish and
been introduced, he spoke of ordinary things, but presently he asked if
I remembered his saying that he wished to go into a certain profession.
I answered "Yes," before I stopped to think, which I'm afraid flattered
him, and then he wanted me to guess