Of course my first duty was to say good-morning to Miss Markham, which was returned apparently with much fervour. There had never been any open hostilities between this lady and myself. On the contrary, we were invariably most polite to one another; nevertheless there existed a secret feud between us, which, like a smouldering fire, only required the breath of opportunity to fan into a flame. She knew, although I had never said so, that I ridiculed her silly conceit, and despised her falsehood, and she never felt quite easy in consequence when in my presence. On the morning in question, I disturbed her in the midst of an animated conversation with Mr. Charteris, which had set the cherries in her hat in violent commotion, which had not quite subsided when a shake from my hand made them begin bobbing again. ‘Miss Marsh the latest of the party!’ she commenced, with an affected giggle; ‘why, I’m quite astonished! I thought you were the “goody-goody” one that always set an example for the rest!’ ‘I’m not aware that I have ever given the world of St. Pucelle reason to make such an assertion, Miss Markham,’ I said, as I drew my chair to the breakfast-table and applied my attention to bread and butter and radishes. ‘Well! I’m sure Mrs. Carolus thinks so, or she would not be so constantly seeking for your company. _I’m_ not good enough for her, not half. She’s so afraid I shall corrupt Willy. He! he! he! She says I have too many admirers to be a safe companion. Now, Mr. Charteris, _do_ you think I’ve got too many admirers?’ ‘A great many too many, Miss Markham, for the peace of one!’ ‘He, he, he! Well, I can’t help it if the men _will_ come after me, can I? I can’t get a little whip and whip them away! It was always the same ever since I was a little girl. I don’t know what it is in me, but they _will_ come!’ ‘It is very easy to see what it is that attracts them, Miss Markham,’ said Charteris, with a side-glance at Ange that made the poor child choke over her _tartine_. ‘Oh!’ cried Miss Sophy, with a conscious look that went first down and then up, and was accompanied by a titter; ‘you’re too bad, Mr. Charteris! you really are! but you’re just like the rest of them. That is what makes Mrs. Carolus so jealous of me! She will tease me to tell her what gentlemen say to me, and then—when I do—oh, goodness! She does give it to us—doesn’t she, Tiddywinks?’ to the yapping terrier which she carried as usual under her arm. ‘You have to pay the penalty of being so fascinating,’ remarked Charteris, who seemed to be the only one disposed to talk to her. ‘Everybody knows what a terrible list of killed and wounded you leave behind you wherever you go. Look at poor young Thrale! You’ve “mashed” him entirely, as the young ladies in America say.’ ‘Mr. Charteris! How _can_ you? What dreadful nonsense you are talking! As if Arthur Thrale could ever be anything to me but a friend!’