But still it--it isn't pleasant.

I know Pamela felt it dreadfully--being cut out with people she likes--people she cares about--and who--who might care for her--like Arthur Chicksands.

I believe--yes, I do believe--though she never told me--that's why she went to London.' Elizabeth rose from her knees.

For a moment she was struck dumb.

And when at last she spoke it was only to repeat the name Mrs.Gaddesden had mentioned in utter bewilderment.
'Captain Chicksands! What can you mean ?' 'Why, of course girls can't hold their own with older women when the older women are so charming and clever--and all that'-- cried Mrs.
Gaddesden, trying desperately to justify herself--'but I've been awfully sorry for Pamela! Very likely it's not your fault--you couldn't know, I daresay!' 'No, indeed, I didn't know!' said Elizabeth, in a low voice, 'and I can't understand now what you mean.' 'Don't you remember the day Arthur Chicksands spent here just before Desmond went?
Don't you remember how he talked to you all the afternoon about the woods?
Well, _I_ saw Pamela's face as she was sitting behind you.' Mrs.Gaddesden raised a triumphant though tear-stained countenance.
She was avenging not only her father's latest slight, but a long series of grievances--small and great--connected with Elizabeth's position in the house.