Her jealousy of these qualities was now barbed by the knowledge that they were much nearer akin than her own to those of Trefusis.

It mattered little to her how she appeared to herself in comparison with Agatha.

But it mattered the whole world (she thought) that she must appear to Trefusis so slow, stiff, cold, and studied, and that she had no means to make him understand that she was not really so.
For she would not admit the justice of impressions made by what she did not intend to do, however habitually she did it.

She had a theory that she was not herself, but what she would have liked to be.

As to the one quality in which she had always felt superior to Agatha, and which she called "good breeding," Trefusis had so far destroyed her conceit in that, that she was beginning to doubt whether it was not her cardinal defect.
She could not bring herself to utter a word as she embraced her schoolfellow; and Agatha was tongue-tied too.