`Yes，mum，’saidshe，quietly，asshewentonarrangingmyhair。
`Doyoubelievethem，Rachel？’Iasked，afterashortpause。
`No，miss，notall，Youknowwhenalotofservantsgetstogether，theyliketotalkabouttheirbetters：andsome，forabitofswagger，likestomakeitappearasthoughtheyknewmorethantheydo，andtothrowouthintsandthings，justtoastonishtheothers。ButIthink，ifIwasyou，MissHelen，I’dlookverywellbeforeIleaped。Idobelieveayoungladycan’tbetoocarefulwhoshemarries。’
`Ofcoursenot，’saidI——`butbequick，willyou，Rachel？Iwanttobedressed。’
Andindeed，Iwasanxioustoberidofthegoodwoman，forIwasinsuchamelancholyframeIcouldhardlykeepthetearsoutofmyeyeswhileshedressedme。ItwasnotforLordLowborough——itwasnotforAnnabella——itwasnotformyself——itwasforArthurHuntingdonthattheyrose。