"A woman at twenty-seven is centuries older than a man at thirty," added Diana, "except, of course, in some things. Theoretically, Silvie and I are highly instructed; practically, the man of thirty is more specifically intelligent, which is no compliment to the man of thirty." Edgerton, still astonished, sat back in his chair, considering. "Do you know," he said, "I never suspected I had two such relatives in the world, who wear the appearance of débutantes with an assurance that convinces until their wit and wisdom convict them. Where were you educated, anyway?" "In a southern boarding school and in a western university. After that, Silvette studied law and was admitted to the bar. I am entitled to practice medicine," she added demurely. "Does _that_ scare you?" "Do you think it has spoiled us?" asked Silvette so naïvely that he made no attempt to control his laughter. "Why on earth don’t you do those two things?" he managed to ask at last. "If you’re entitled to exercise professions, why don’t you?" "We only studied out of curiosity," explained Diana. "We never intended to follow it up. Of course, we expected to remain always in pleasant financial circumstances." "Anyway," added Silvette, "it’s too late now to sit in an office and wait for clients and patients. Besides, it’s a stuffy life. We dance better, and we decorate a drawing-room to more advantage than an office building." "You _have_ thoroughly scared me," he said, looking at them admiringly. Diana glanced up, then flushed. "I was afraid for a moment that you meant it," she said. "I do. What was it you asked me a few moments ago—whether or not I was something of a snob? And I was about to resent it—politely, of course—when it occurred to me that there was, after all, no more finished snob than the man who is so convinced of his own position that he can afford to like everybody; and I told you I liked that militia gentleman. I really didn’t; I thought him the limit.... Diana, you seem to be a sort of truth compeller." "I’m a liar, occasionally—to speak with accuracy instead of elegance," said Diana frankly. "I’ve managed to convey to you an idea that I am indifferent to your joining the firm of Tennant and Tennant. As a matter of fact, I’m flattered and happy. It’s my conscience that protests." "Your—what?" "Conscience. Never mind—you won’t understand, and I won’t tell you.... After all, you are thirty-two, even if you happen to be an Edgerton." "Are you jeering at me?" "No, I am not. I’m flattered because you wear a distinguished name; I’m happy because I’m entirely inclined to like you. In fact, I’m a kind of a happy, little snob myself. There! we’re all tarred with the same snobbish brush, cousin. Shall we take off our masks for a while and cool our faces?" She rose with a gay little laugh and a bewitching gesture as though sweeping from her face an invisible vizard.