'A very poor ideal indeed, it seems to me that you set yourself--to make the best of this wretched world.' 'I cannot understand what good can come of craving after the unattainable,' said Alice, looking earnestly out of her grey sharp eyes. 'True beauty lies only in the unattainable,' said Cecilia, lifting her eyes with that curious movement of the eyeball by which painters represent faith and mysticism. At the end of a long silence, Alice said: 'But you'll have some tea, will you not, Cecilia?' 'Yes; but don't let us go downstairs.' 'We'll have it up here; Barnes will bring it up.' 'Oh, that will be so nice.' The girls drew closer to the fire, and in its uniting warmth they looked into the ardent face of their friendship, talking, at first, conscious of the appropriateness of their conversation; but soon forgetful of the more serious themes they had been discussing, questions were asked and answered, and comments passed, upon the presentations, the dresses, the crowds, upon all their acquaintances. 'It is given out, Alice dear, that Lord Kilcarney is coming down to stay at Brookfield. Is it true?' 'I have heard nothing of it. Whom did you hear it from?' 'Well, the Duffys wrote it to my sisters. The Duffys, you know, have all the Dublin news.' 'What dreadful gossips they are! And the wonderful part of it is that they often tell you that things have happened long before they do happen.' 'Yes; I have noticed that. They anticipate the news.' The girls laughed lightly, and Cecilia continued: 'But tell me, which do you think he admires most, Olive or Violet? The rumour goes that he pays Violet great attentions. The family is, of course, wild about it. She hasn't a penny piece, and Olive, they say, has a good deal of money.' 'I don't know.' 'You must show me the dress you wore. You described it beautifully in your letter. You must have looked very sweet. Did everybody say so?' 'I am not sure that they did. Men, you know, do not always admire what women do.' 'I should think not. Men only admire beastliness.' 'Cecilia dear, you shouldn't talk like that; it isn't nice.' Cecilia looked at Alice wistfully, and she said: 'But tell me about the presentations. I suppose there were an immense number of people present?' 'Yes, and particularly _débutantes_; there were a great number presented this year. It was considered a large Drawing-Room.' 'And how are you presented? I've heard my sister speak about it, but I never quite understood.' At that moment Barnes brought in the tea. She set it on a little table used for the purpose. 'There is a letter for you, miss, on the tray,' she said as she left the room; 'it came by the afternoon post.' Without answering, Alice continued to pour out the tea, but when she handed Cecilia her cup, she said, surprised at the dull, sullen stare fixed upon her: 'What is the matter? Why do you look at me like that?' 'That letter, I am sure, is from Harding; it is a man's handwriting.'