“Well?” said Coral, with lazy amusement. And then Laura’s haughtiness melted rather pitifully into childish, bewildered anger. “You talk so! I hate the way you talk. About us. You hint——You’re always hinting! What is it you mean? Do you think——? Do you imagine——?” She drew a difficult breath. “Oh, I think you’re a perfect beast!” cried Laura fiercely. She flamed out of the room: and, for the rest of the day, would not look at her, would not speak to her. And Coral, who liked her, watched her with those two shrewd, bright blue eyes of hers and laughed a little and shook her head and said to herself once again— “Poor old Laura!” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XXIII “You don’t count.” Coral’s words, her look, her laughter—above all, her kindly, contemptuous laughter—haunted Laura. Since the day of her engagement she had been aware, underneath her happiness, of certain inadequacies, fallings short in herself or—was it possible?—in Justin. Preposterous! She heaped scorn upon the notion till it was covered up again, and yet she knew it was there, huddled away in a corner of her mind, ready at a word to shake itself free of its trappings, to confront her, a naked living fact. “You don’t count.” Coral’s three words were more than enough to waken it. She had failed Justin in some way? Was that what Coral meant? Coral, who knew such a lot about men. Coral, who seemed to think that Justin was no more than anybody else, thought it ought to be easy to make him like one better than birds’ eggs and books and things. She remembered how Coral had turned on her one day, laughing and angry, saying: “You little fool, why the devil don’t you flirt with him?” That was all very well, of course, if one were pretty enough and clever enough, a splendid, irresistible sort of person.... That sort of thing worked in books.... But Laura would like any one to tell her how she was to flirt with Justin? How to start even?... It seemed a hopeless business.... Besides—besides—she didn’t want to ... she would just feel a fool.... And that was what Coral meant, she supposed, by not counting.... Or was it?... When Coral laughed—oh, Coral got on her nerves!... She wished Coral had never come to Brackenhurst.... Coral and life were so mysterious.... She thought that being grown-up was very strange and difficult.... One day as she helped Justin with his precise, delightful task of gumming labels on his latest finds, she broke out suddenly, guided by an irresistible impulse— “Justin, I do count, don’t I?” He was doing things with a strip of paper and a paste brush. “Here, hold this down, will you? No, not there, that’s not pasted yet—where it’s curling. What were you saying?” “You wouldn’t say I didn’t count, would you?” she revised it. “I do come next to your mother, don’t I?” And then, quickly, “What is it—scissors?”