war-horse. But really I believe she's all right. It's only our guilty consciences. And Mr. Rochester says she's much jollier than she used to be."
"And as she was the friend of his childhood he must have thought her pretty nice then. So that by now . . .!"
"I didn't take it that way. What he said was that the war had been the making of her, and he'd never thought she had so much stuff in her. That doesn't sound very—very . . ."
"No—does it? I don't think the noble lord will throw the handkerchief to a girl he never thought had so much in her, do you?"
"He's very nice to her," said Jane.
"Yes," said the diplomatic Lucilla, "too nice for it to mean anything."
"Yes," said Jane. "It's as if he was saying all the time, 'I'll be a brother to you—I really will.' If there was anything there'd be more ups and downs."
"I don't know how you know," said Lucilla.
"Perhaps I don't. But you must remember I was adored once too, like Sir Andrew Aguecheek."
"Oh, when?" cried Lucilla eagerly.
"In a former state of existence," said Jane. "All girls must have been. That's how they know so much about love-affairs before they ever have one. Look here—let's do something new and different. Let's have a prize competition."
"Like anagram teas?"
"Yes, but not anagrams. We'll have a prize for the best solution of the problem of how to get rid of Othello—he's always getting out of the hutch and eating Mr. Dix's choicest fruits and flowers; and a prize for the best poem about Cedar Court; and for the best way of getting the silver out from behind that fireplace without taking the whole thing out, because the mantelpiece is built all round it. And another prize"
A discreet tap at the door stopped her.
