"It's like that with me," continued Janet. "It's all in all. And then I am afraid that _is_ laying up treasures on earth, isn't it?" "Not if you love God more because you love George." Janet ruminated. You could almost hear her mind at work upon the suggestion, as you hear a coffee-mill respond to a handful of coffee berries. "I think I do," she said at last, and she added below her breath, "I thank God all the time for sending George, and I pray I may be worthy of him." Anne's eyes filled with sudden tears--not for herself. "I hope you will be very happy," she said, laying her hand on Janet's. It seemed to Anne a somewhat forlorn hope. Janet's hand closed slowly over Anne's. "I think we shall," she said. "And yet I sometimes doubt, when I remember that I am not his equal. I knew that in a way from the first, but I see it more and more since I came here. I don't wonder Mrs Trefusis doesn't think me good enough." "Mrs Trefusis does not take fancies quickly." "It is not that," said Janet. "There's two ways of not being good enough. Till now I have only thought of one way, of not being good enough _in myself_, like such things as temper. I'm not often angry, but if I am I stay angry. I don't alter. I was once angry with Fred for a year. I've thought a great deal about that since I've cared for George. And sometimes I fancy I'm rather slow. I daresay you haven't noticed it, but Mrs Smith often remarks upon it. She always has something to say on any subject, just like you have; but somehow I haven't." "I don't know Mrs Smith." "I wish you did. She's wonderful. She says she learnt it when she went out so much in the West End before her marriage." "Indeed!" "But since I've been here I see there's another way I'm not good enough, which sets Mrs Trefusis against me. I don't think she would mind if I told lies and had a bad temper, and couldn't talk like Mrs Smith, if I was good enough in _her_ way--I mean if I was high-born like you." The conversation seemed to contain as many pins as a well-stocked pincushion. The expression "high-born" certainly had a sharp point, but Anne made no sign as it was driven in. She considered a moment, and then said, as if she had decided to risk something: "You are right. Mrs Trefusis would have been pleased if you had been my sister. You perhaps think that very worldly. I think it is very natural." "I wish I were your sister," said Janet, who might be reckoned on for remaining half a field behind. Anne sighed, and leaned back in her chair. "If I were your sister," continued Janet, wholly engrossed in getting her slow barge heavily under way, "you would have told me a number of little things which--I don't seem to know." "You could easily learn some of them," said Anne, "and that would greatly please Mrs Trefusis." "Could you tell me of anything in especial?" "Well! For instance--I don't mind myself in the least--but it would be better not to call me 'Lady Varney.'"