THE AWKWARD AGE
"You mean because he doesn't want to marry you?"
It was as if she had not heard that Nanda continued: "Well, he's more beautiful."
"O-oh!" cried Mrs. Brook, with a drawn-out extravagance of comment that amounted to an impugnment even by herself of her taste.
It contributed to Nanda's quietness. "He's one of the most beautiful people in the world."
Her companion at this, with a quick wonder, fixed her. "Does he, my dear, want to marry you?"
"Yes—to all sorts of ridiculous people."
"But I mean, would you take him?"
Nanda, rising, met the question with a short ironic "Yes!" that showed her first impatience. "It's so charming being liked," she went on, "without being approved."
But Mrs. Brook only wanted to know. "He doesn't approve—?"
"No, but it makes no difference. It's all exactly right, all the same."
Mrs. Brook seemed to wonder, however, exactly how it could be. "He doesn't want you to give up anything?" She looked as if she were rapidly thinking what Nanda might give up.
"Oh yes, everything."
It was as if, for an instant, she found her daughter inscrutable; then she had a strange smile. "Me?"
The girl was perfectly prompt. "Everything. But he wouldn't like me nearly so much if I really did."
Her mother had a further pause. "Does he want to adopt you?" Then more quickly and sadly, though also a little as if lacking courage to push the inquiry: "We couldn't give you up, Nanda."
"Thank you so much, mamma. But we sha'n't be very much tried," Nanda said, "because what it comes to seems to be that I'm really what you may call adopt-
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