She did not want the worry of it.

Ah, she would be very careful in the future: she would take very good care that the fact of other girls wanting to marry one particular man would not make her anxious to have him all to herself.
Before her resolutions on this very important point had been fully considered in all their bearings, her maid entered to ask if she was at home.

The butler had sent a footman to her to make that inquiry, the fact being that her particular friend, Mrs.Linton, had called to see her.
Phyllis jumped up, saying: "Of course I am home to Mrs.Linton.She will have tea with me." She went to a glass to see if the tears which had been in her eyes--they had not fallen--had left any traces that the acuteness of Ella Linton might detect.

The result of her observation was satisfactory; she would not even need to sit with her back to the light.
Then Mrs.Linton was announced, and flowed into the arms of her friend Phyllis, crying: "Of course I knew that you would be at home to me, my beloved, even though you might be in the midst of one of those brilliant speeches which you write out for your father to deliver in the House and cause people to fancy that he is the wittiest man in place--so unlike that dreadful teetotal man who grins through the horse collar and thinks that people are imposed on.

Now let me look at you, you lucky girl! You are a lucky girl, you know." "Yes," said Phyllis, "you have called on me.