THE BETTER SORT
pletely now. "No; I shouldn't indeed think it would be easy to get another. But why is a succession of them necessary to Lady Beldonald's existence?"
"Can't you guess?" Mrs. Munden looked deep, yet impatient. "They help."
"Help what? Help whom?"
"Why, every one. You and me for instance. To do what? Why, to think Nina beautiful. She has them for that purpose; they serve as foils, as accents serve on syllables, as terms of comparison. They make her 'stand out.' It's an effect of contrast that must be familiar to you artists; it's what a woman does when she puts a band of black velvet under a pearl ornament that may require, as she thinks, a little showing off."
I wondered. "Do you mean she always has them black?"
"Dear no; I've seen them blue, green, yellow. They may be what they like, so long as they're always one other thing."
"Hideous?"
Mrs. Munden hesitated. "Hideous is too much to say; she doesn't really require them as bad as that. But consistently, cheerfully, loyally plain. It's really a most happy relation. She loves them for it."
"And for what do they love her?"
"Why, just for the amiability that they produce in her. Then, also, for their 'home.' It's a career for them."
"I see. But if that's the case," I asked, "why are they so difficult to find?"
"Oh, they must be safe; it's all in that: her being able to depend on them to keep to the terms of the bargain and never have moments of rising—as even the ugliest woman will now and then (say when she's in love)—superior to themselves."
I turned it over. "Then if they can't inspire
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