stoutly. "But as we are not titled snobs with Bridport House stamped on our notepaper, I suppose we don't count."
"That's not fair." A curious look came into Mary's face, which Milly had noticed before and, for a reason she couldn't explain, somehow resented. "They have their point of view and it's right that they should have. Without it they wouldn't be what they are, would they?"
"You speak as if they were better than other people."
"Why, of course."
"I shall begin to think you are as bad as they are," Milly burst out impatiently. "You are the oddest creature. I can understand your not going where you are not wanted, but that's no reason why you should fight for the other side."
"I want them to have fair play."
"It's more than they mean you to have, any way."
"One oughtn't to say that." The tone had a quaint sternness, charming to the ear, yet with a great power of affront for the soul of Milly.
"Miss Lawrence," said that democrat, "you annoy me. If you go on like this before mother she'll shake you. The trouble with you"—a rather fierce recourse to a cigarette—"is that you are a bit of a prig. You must admit that you are a bit of a prig, aren't you now?"
"More than a bit of one," sighed Mary. And then the light of humor broke over her perplexity. In the eyes of Milly this was her great saving clause; and in spite of an ever-deepening annoyance with her friend for the hay she was making of such amazingly brilliant prospects, she could not help laughing at the comic look of her now.
