the kindness they have shown me, and the amount of pleasure I have derived from their society.'
It would perhaps be inquiring too closely to consider whether this reference to sources of consolation other than those that sprang from her own bosom had an irritating effect on Millicent; at all events after a moment's silence she answered it by asking, 'Does she know—your trumpery Princess?'
'Yes, but she doesn't mind it.'
'That's most uncommonly kind of her!' cried the girl, with a scornful laugh.
'It annoys me very much to hear you apply invidious epithets to her. You know nothing about her.'
'How do you know what I know, please?' Millicent asked this question with the habit of her natural pugnacity, but the next instant she dropped her voice, as if she remembered that she was in the presence of a great misfortune. 'Hasn't she treated you most shamefully, and you such a regular dear?'
'Not in the least. It is I that, as you may say, have rounded on her. She made my acquaintance because I was interested in the same things as she was. Her interest has continued, has increased, but mine, for some reason or other, has declined. She has been consistent, and I have been fickle.'
'Your interest has declined, in the Princess? ' Millicent questioned, following imperfectly this somewhat complicated statement.
'Oh dear, no. I mean only in some views that I used to have.'
'Ay, when you thought everything should go to the
