back to the others. There was no talk that interested her, but under her boredom she was conscious of a kind of excitement. It was pleasant after all—to be among people again, to be admired, to have a certain feeling of lightness. She was frivolous in her talk with Fairfax, and sharp when he tried to be serious.
"I wish I knew what has happened to you," he murmured at last, exasperatedly. "We were friends once, you know. And you have changed completely—not only to me, but your very looks have changed. The lines of your face are sharper and harder"
"Age, of course," interposed Teresa, "but it isn't gallant of you to point it out. And to-night, too, when I really tried hard to make myself presentable."
"You are beautiful to-night, and you know it. What I mean has nothing to do with that. It's a spiritual hardness and sharpness—it's as though your face had been worked over, re-modelled"
"Massage, perhaps? No, I don't go in for any of those beautifying processes."
Fairfax stifled an angry ejaculation.
"Well, so be it," he said, and his rather sensual face showed a dark flush. "I see you don't want to talk to me as you did once. I don't know that I'm given you any reason to snub me, but if it amuses you"
