Next second it
was gone. "Is it possible that that beautiful girl is your daughter?
But, remembering her mother, I need not ask. Look at her, Mr.
Caresfoot, and then look at me, and say whether or not I look old. And
who is the young man? Her lover, I suppose--at any rate, he looks like
it; but please introduce me."
"Angela," said Philip, crossing to the window where they were talking,
"let me introduce you to Lady Bellamy. Mr. Heigham--Lady Bellamy."
"I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Caresfoot, though I
think it is very generous of me to say so."
Angela looked puzzled.
"Indeed!" she said.
"What! do you not guess why it is generous? Then look at yourself in
the glass, and you will see. I used to have some pretension to good
looks, but I could never have stood beside you at the best of times,
and now---- Your mother, even when I was at my best, always _killed_
me if I was in the same room with her, and you are even handsomer than
your mother."
Angela blushed very much at this unqualified praise, and, putting it
and the exclamation her appearance had that morning wrung from Arthur
together, she suddenly came to the conclusion--for, odd as it may
seem, she had never before taken the matter into serious consideration
--that she must be very good-looking, a conclusion that made her feel
extremely happy, she could not quite tell why.
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