Page:Her Roman Lover (Frothingham, 1911).djvu/95



NNE had tea alone with her aunt that afternoon, among the crimson splendors of the large salon; and the girl took hers in silence, unaware of the fullness of expression on her face till she found Margaret’s usually calm and self-sufficing eyes fixed upon her with anxious penetration.

“Anne,” said the older woman, “there is something about this that I do not like.”

Anne’s look of helpless self-consciousness was like a confession, but she answered nothing.

“I know you to be one of the women who like to have men in love with them —”

“You are one of the few—the very few—who never did like it,” interrupted Anne, snatching the first chance of recovering her mental poise.

Her aunt ignored the interruption. “To have men in love with you seems to gratify some requirement of your nature,” she continued. “I do not think it altogether vanity, but I confess to neither understanding nor admiring it. However, recognizing it as I do, I have never felt alarmed when you