his natural modesty just at hand. "I am sure you know a great deal more than I do."
"I really think I know a great deal for a person who has never been there."
"Have you really never been there?" cried Lord Lambeth. "Fancy!"
"Never—except in imagination," said the young girl.
"Fancy!" repeated her companion. "But I dare say you'll go soon, won't you?"
"It's the dream of my life!" declared Bessie Alden, smiling.
"But your sister seems to know a tremendous lot about London," Lord Lambeth went on.
The young girl was silent a moment. "My sister and I are two very different persons," she presently said. "She has been a great deal in Europe. She has been in England several times. She has known a great many English people."
"But you must have known some, too," said Lord Lambeth.
"I don't think that I have ever spoken to one before. You are the first Englishman that—to my knowledge—I have ever talked with."
Bessie Alden made this statement with a certain gravity—almost, as it seemed to Lord Lambeth, an impressiveness. Attempts at impressiveness always made him feel awkward, and he
