"Why then of course," said now quite lucid Lady Grace, "she throws herself more than ever on poor father."
"Poor father indeed!"—Lady Sandgate richly sighed it.
It appeared even to create in the younger woman a sense of excess. "Yes—but he after all and in spite of everything adores her."
"To the point, you mean"—for Lady Sandgate could clearly but wonder—"of really sacrificing you?"
The weight of Lady Grace's charming deep eyes on her face made her pause while, at some length, she gave back this look and the interchange determined in the girl a grave appeal. "You think I should be sacrificed if I married him?"
Lady Sandgate replied, though with an equal emphasis, indirectly. "Could you marry him?"
Lady Grace waited a moment. "Do you mean for Kitty?"
"For himself even—if they should convince you, among them, that he cares for you."
Lady Grace had another delay. "Well, he's his awful mother's son."
