“I think Miss Arrowpoint has the best manners I ever saw,” said Mrs. Davilow, when she and Gwendolen were in a dressing-room with Mrs. Gascoigne and Anna, but at a distance where they could have their talk apart.
“I wish I were like her,” said Gwendolen.
“Why? Are you getting discontented with yourself, Gwen?”
“No; but I am discontented with things. She seems contented.”
“I am sure you ought to be satisfied to-day. You must have enjoyed the shooting. I saw you did.”
“Oh, that is over now, and I don’t know what will come next,” said Gwendolen, stretching herself with a sort of moan and throwing up her arms. They were bare now; it was the fashion to dance in the archery dress, throwing off the jacket; and the simplicity of her white cashmere with its border of pale green set off her for
