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 slightest idea, maman, what other little girls may be like. I must admit that I don't understand them at all. I only know that they're not in the least like me.

She complained of a headache and excused herself from the dance Mrs. Nicander gave for the children last week, after she had been there five minutes, Laura continued.

Well, maman, frankly I was bored.

But Consuelo dear, you don't even appear to be interested in your home and your mama and papa and sister.

I'm sorry, maman. I'm fond of you all—in a way—and I know you do all you can—that is everything you know how to do—to make it pleasant for me, but you will acknowledge that the conversation in this house is on a pretty inferior plane.

George turned aside and blew his nose violently. Laura gasped, and gave the impression—opening and closing her mouth rapidly several times—that she was about to make some drastic comment. Apparently, she altered her original intention, for her lips eventually formed these words instead, Consuelo dear, you may certainly accompany Mrs. Lorillard to the Riverside, and now run away. Papa and I want to talk.

Slowly, the child slid down from the couch until her feet touched the floor. Then rising, with great dignity she retired from the room, first casting her mother one of the most subdolous in her extensive