No doubt she's a dear, lovely old woman.

But--a washerwoman, and constant, daily contact--and not as lady and servant, but on what must be, after all, a sort of equality--" Janet finished her sentence with a ladylike look.
Adelaide burned with the resentment of the new convert.

"A woman who brought into the world and brought up such a son as Lorry was," said she, "needn't yield to anybody." Then the silliness of arguing such a matter with Madame la Marquise de Saint Berthe came over her.

"You and I don't look at life from the same standpoint, Janet," she added, smiling.

"You see, you're a lady, and I'm not--any more." "Oh, yes, you are," Janet, the devoid of the sense of humor, hastened to assure her earnestly.