Page:E Nesbit - The Literary Sense.djvu/215

Rh away a young girl's character. At least, if she's not so young as she was, of course—we none of us are, not even yourself, madam, if you'll pardon me saying so."

"I beg your pardon," said Mrs. Despard. She had never felt so helpless—so silly. The absurd parlour, ponderous with plush, dusky with double curtains, had for her all the effect of a nightmare.

She felt that she was swimming blindly in a sea of disenchantment.

"Don't think me inquisitive," she said, "but Miss Eden was engaged, wasn't she, some time ago, to someone who was killed in South Africa?"

"Never—in all her born days," said Mrs. Eden, with emphasis. "I suppose it's her looks. I've had a good many offers myself, though I'm not what you might call anything out of the way—but poor Ellen—never had so much as a nibble."

Mrs. Despard gasped. She clung against reason to the one spar of hope in this sea of faiths dissolved. It might be—it must be—some mistake!