"Yes, I mean that--it is ten thousand times better than love." "But," said Lady Estelle, "that is a strange doctrine for one so young as you." "I am young, but I know something of life," said Doris. "I know that money can purchase everything, can do everything, can influence everything." "But," said Lady Estelle, drawing still further from her, "you would not surely tell me that of all the gifts of this world you value money most." "I think I do," said Doris, with a frank smile. "That is strange in one so young," said Lady Estelle. "I am so sorry." Then she rose, saying, coldly: "You will like to see the pictures. You think it strange that I should speak to you in this fashion. As I told you before, a love-story interests me. I am sorry that you have none." The change was soon perceived by Doris, and just as quickly understood. "I do not think," she said, gently, "that you have quite understood me. I do not love money; that is, the actual gold. It is the pleasures that money can purchase which seem to me so enviable, that I long so urgently for." Lady Estelle smiled. "I see--I understand. You did not express just what you meant; that is a different thing. There seems to me something hateful in the love of money. So you long for pleasure, my poor child. You little know how soon it would tire you." "Indeed, it never would," she replied, eagerly. "I should like--oh, how much I should like!--to live always in rooms beautiful as these, to wear shining jewels, rich silks, costly laces! I do not, and never have, liked my own home; in some strange way it never seems to belong to me, nor I to it." Lady Estelle drew near to her again. "You do not like it, poor child?" she said. "That is very sad. Yet they are very kind to you." "Yes, they are kind to me. I cannot explain what I mean. I never seem to think as they think, or do as they do. I am not good either, after their fashion of being good." "What is your idea of being good?" asked Lady Estelle. "Pleasing myself, amusing myself, making myself happy." "It is comfortable philosophy at least. What is he like, this Earle Moray, whom your father calls poet and gentleman?" asked Lady Estelle. Doris smiled. She did not blush, nor did her eyes droop; there was no shyness nor timidity. "He is fair," she replied, "and he has a noble head, crowned with clustering hair; his face is spiritual and tender, and his mouth is beautiful as a woman's." "That is a good description; I can almost see him. You love him or you could not describe him so." "He will be a great man in the future," replied the girl. Then she started at finding on what familiar terms she was with this daughter of a mighty duke. They were sitting side by side, and Lady Estelle had again taken the shining hair in her hand. Doris' hat had become unfastened, and she held it with careless grace. It even surprised herself to find she was as much at home and at her ease with Lady Estelle Hereford as she was with Mattie.