She said now, sitting up straight and looking wistfully at Marise, "_Will_ you be friends? You came of your own accord to be nice to me. Tell me about things. _Everything!_ I want so like sin to know! I'll do anything to learn." "Know what?" asked Marise, bewildered, looking about her, as if she might catch a glimpse of the things the other wanted to know. "What they all know oveh heah ... everything _you_ know." Marise drew back with an abrupt gesture, "No, _indeed_!" she cried, her face darkening, the words leaping out before she could stop them. "Oh, I don't mean your secrets. I don't care about that. And I don't mean the way you play the piano, although I know some of the girls are envious of that. And I'd despise to have to study as hard as you-all in the upper classes do. I mean the right way to sit down and hold your hands and speak and weah clothes." Marise began to laugh, "_I_ don't know how to wear clothes. What do you want anyhow? You're prettier than any girl in the school, and you are wearing a dress that cost more than anybody's else, and finer shoes than you could buy in all Paris." "But they're not right," the girl said petulantly, "or else I don't _weah_ them right, or something! I hate them! I have lots of money, but I don't know how to buy what I want." She flung herself again on Marise, holding her closely, "Help me!" she begged, "help me buy what I want." Marise was touched by the loneliness which underlay the other girl's appeal. She knew what it was to be lonely! It was the first time that any one had broken through into her loneliness as this quivering, passionate, unhappy little thing had done; the first time anybody had asked her for help. From the very first word of their talk, the light chaffing manner which was her usual shield had been torn into shreds by the other girl's driving directness. She looked deep into the other's eyes, fixed breathlessly on her, and said seriously, "Yes, Eugenie, I'll help you ... all I can." "There!" said the other, "that's a specimen. My name's not Eugenie. It's Eugenia. Isn't that turrible?" Marise did not follow this at all. "It's just the same thing, only in English, isn't it?" "Yes, but it's horrid and common in English, and it's lovely in French. Why can't I _have_ it Eugenie?" She looked up keenly and searchingly into Marise's face, and at what she caught there, she contradicted herself hastily, before Marise could open her lips. "No, no, I see. It would be silly to change it--to pretend. I'd better make the best of it. There! There's one fool mistake you kept me from making, you see!" Marise felt that the talk was on a plane different from hers, so that she did not get its meaning, although the words were clear enough. What was all that about Eugenia and Eugenie? She hadn't caught the point of that, at all.