She laughed anxiously and looked at Lady Holme.
"Didn't you think I was older?"
"I don't know that I ever thought about it," replied Lady Holme, with the
rather careless frankness she often used towards women.
"Of course not. Why should you, or anyone? When a woman's once over fifty
it really doesn't matter much whether she's fifty-one or seventy-one.
Does it?"
Lady Holme thought for a moment. Then she said:
"I really don't know. You see, I'm not a man."
Lady Cardington's forehead puckered and her mouth drooped piteously.
"A woman's real life is very short," she said. "But her desire for real
life can last very long--her silly, useless desire."
"But if her looks remain?"
"They don't."
"You think it is a question of looks?"
"Do you think it is?" asked Lady Cardington. "But how can you know
anything about it, at your age, and with your appearance?"
"I suppose we all have our different opinions as to what men are and what
men want," Lady Holme said, more thoughtfully than usual.
"Men! Men!" Lady Cardington exclaimed, with a touch of irritation unusual
in her. "Why should we women do, and be, everything for men?"
"I don't know, but we do and we are. There are some men, though, who
think it isn't a question of looks, or think they think so."
"Who?" said Lady Cardington, quickly.
"Oh, there are some," answered Lady Holme, evasively, "who believe in
mental charm more than in physical charm, or say they do.
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