"But it might somewhat modify the vehemence of your opposition," said Roma, in her usual lazy, half-bantering tone, from which her unwonted earnestness had hitherto roused her. "No, Gertrude; you must not even apply that unction to your damask cheek--what am I saying? I never can remember those horrid little quotations we had to hunt up at school, and I am so sleepy with travelling all yesterday--lay that flattering unction to your soul, I mean. Beauchamp would say I was trying to make a female Dundreary of myself--a good thing he's not here. No, she is not rich. I told you she was utterly unsuited to him in _every_ way. I found out she wasn't rich before Beauchamp ever saw her; something interested me in her, I don't know what exactly, and I asked Mary about her." "Not rich, and Wareborough! Oh, no, Roma; I am quite satisfied. There is no fear in that quarter. It is only one of his incessant flirtations, I am sure." "If so, it will be all on his side. She isn't the sort of girl to flirt. It would be all or nothing with her, I expect," said Roma, oracularly. "I can't understand what makes you think so much of it," said Mrs Eyrecourt, fretfully. "How often did you see them together?" "Only once--that last evening at the Dalrymples! There was a carpet dance. Don't you remember I wrote and told you they _would_ ask Beauchamp, when they heard he was coming?" said Roma. "Only once. You only saw them together once, and that at a dance, where Beauchamp was _sure_ to flirt--especially as you snubbed him! Really, Roma, you are absurdly fanciful," exclaimed Mrs Eyrecourt. Roma took the remark in good part. "Perhaps I am," she replied; "but it isn't generally a weakness of mine to be so. For all I know, the girl is engaged to someone else, or she and Beauchamp may never see each other again. I don't say I have any grounds for what I fear. One gets impressions sometimes that one can't account for." "Ah, yes, and I really think, dear, you are a little morbid on the subject. You have had so much worry about Beauchamp," said Gertrude, consolingly. "But as you've told me so much, tell me a little more. Is she such a very pretty girl? There must be something out of the common about her to have attracted you. Who is she?" "She is a--" began Miss Eyrecourt, but a noise at the door interrupted her. There was a bang, then a succession of tiny raps, then a fumbling at the handle. "That tiresome child!" exclaimed Mrs Eyrecourt. "Floss," in a higher key, "be quiet, do. Run up stairs--never mind her, Roma; go on with what you were saying." But the fumbling continued. Roma's nerves, perhaps, were not quite in train this morning; however that may have been, the noise was very irritating. She got up at last and opened the door. "Come in, Floss," she said, good-humouredly, but her invitation was not accepted.