I seem to be numb to everything else. Whether Lady Ver is angry or not does not bother me. I did play fair. She could not expect me to go on pretending when Robert had said straight out he loved me. But I am sure she will be angry, though, and probably rather spiteful about it. I will write her the simple truth in a day or two, when we see how things go. She will guess by Robert not going to Sedgwick. CLARIDGE’S, _Monday afternoon_. AT half past eleven this morning Lady Merrenden came, and the room was all full of flowers that Robert had sent--bunches and bunches of violets and gardenias. She kissed me, and held me tight for a moment, and we did not speak. Then she said in a voice that trembled a little, “Robert is so very dear to me--almost my own child --that I want him to be happy, and you, too, Evangeline--I may call you that, may not I?” I squeezed her hand. “You are the echo of my youth, when 1, too, knew the wild springtime of love. So dear, I need not tell you that you may count upon my doing what I can for you both.” Then we talked and talked. “I must admit,” she said at last, “I was prejudiced in your favour for your dear father’s sake, but in any case my opinion of Robert’s judgement is so high, I would have been prepared to find you charming even without that. He has the rarest qualities, he is the truest, most untarnished soul in this world.” “I don’t say,” she went on, “that he is not just as the other young men of his age and class; he is no Galahad, as no one can be with truth who is human and lives in the world. And I daresay kind friends will tell you stories of actresses and other diversions, but I who know him, tell you you have won the best and greatest darling in London.” “Oh, I am sure of it!” I said. “I don’t know why he loves me so much, he has seen me so little; but it began from the very first minute I think with both of us. He is such a nice shape!” She laughed. Then she asked me if she was right in supposing all these _contretemps_ we had had were the doing of Lady Ver. “You need not answer, dear,” she said. “I know Ianthe--she is in love with Robert herself, she can’t help it; she means no harm, but she often gets these attacks, and they pass off. I think she is devoted to Sir Charles really.” “Y-e-s,” I said. “It is a queer world we live in, child,” she continued, “and true love and suitability of character are such a rare combination, but, from what I can judge, you and Robert possess them.” “Oh, how dear of you to say so!” I exclaimed. “You don’t think I _must_ be bad, then, because of my colouring?” “What a ridiculous idea, you sweet child!” she laughed. “Who has told you that?” “Oh! Mrs. Carruthers always said so--and--and--the old gentlemen, and--even Mr. Carruthers hinted I probably had some odd qualities. But you do think I shall be able to be fairly good, don’t you?” She was amused I could see, but I was serious.