"I don't want your assurances," Dorothy interrupted. "It doesn't matter to me what you do with Clarehaven, except that as a friend of mine I think you might have been more loyal." "Don't be foolish. I'm the last person to do anything in the least disloyal." "Really?" sneered Dorothy. "Clarehaven simply came down to Brighton to talk about you. He's suffering from the moth and star disease. Though you won't believe me, I was very fond of you, Dorothy dear; I am still, really," she added, with a little movement of affection that Dorothy refused to notice. "But I do think you're turning into a shocking little snob. That's the Vanity _galère_. No girl there could help being a snob unless she were as simple and sweet as Olive." "Perhaps you'd like to steal Olive from me, too?" Dorothy asked, bitterly. "I tell you," the other answered, "it's not a question of stealing anybody. I kept Clarehaven up all night drinking whiskies-and-sodas while I lectured him on his behavior to you. We sat in the sitting-room. If you want a witness, ask the waiter, who has varicose veins and didn't forget to remind us of the fact." "I suppose Lonsdale and Lily were sitting up with you at this conference? Do you think I was born yesterday? Well, I warn you that I shall tell Queenie Molyneux what's happened." "If you do," said Sylvia, "I've an idea that Lonsdale will be only too delighted. I fancy that's exactly what he wanted." "This is all very sordid," said Dorothy, loftily. Then she told Sylvia that she never wished to see her again, and they parted. Dorothy insisted that Olive ought also to quarrel with Sylvia, but, much to her annoyance, Olive dissented. She said that in any case the dispute had nothing to do with her, and actually added that in her opinion Sylvia had behaved rather well. "I'm sure she's speaking the truth," she said. Dorothy thought how false all friends were, and promised that henceforth she would think about no one except her own much-injured self. "One starts with good resolutions not to be selfish," she told Olive, "and then one is driven into it by one's friends." Sylvia's story seemed contradicted next day by the arrival of Clarehaven in a most complacent mood, for when Dorothy asked how he had enjoyed his week-end he did not seem at all taken aback and hoped that her Jew friend had enjoyed his. "I wish I could make you understand just how little you mean to me," she raged. "How dare you come here and brag about your--your-- Oh, I wish I'd never met you." "If you don't care anything about me," he said, "I can't understand why you should be annoyed at my taking Sylvia Scarlett down to Brighton. I don't pretend to be in love with her. I'm in love with you." Dorothy interrupted him with a contemptuous gesture.