all one has to say about oneself.

During that brief half-hour our intimacy grew apace. There are people
with whom one seems to have been on terms of friendship, almost as
though one had known them for years, within ten minutes after being
introduced to them; others who, when one has known them quite a long
time, seem still to remain comparatively strangers. Mrs. Stapleton
belonged to the first group, although she spoke so little about herself.
Yet I was not in the least attracted by her in the way Dulcie Challoner
attracted me. I found her capital company; I could imagine our becoming
great friends; I could think of her in the light of a _bonne camarade_.
But that was all. As for feeling tempted to fall in love with her--but
the bare thought was grotesque.

"What a charming, delightful girl that is--I mean Miss Challoner," Mrs.
Stapleton exclaimed suddenly, when, after talking a great deal, we had
been silent for a few moments. "And how exquisitely pretty," she added
after an instant's pause.

I hardly knew what to say. I know enough of women to be aware that no
woman is particularly anxious, save in exceptional cases, to listen to a
panegyric on the charms and the physical attractions of some other
woman. Therefore, after a moment's reflection, I answered with affected
indifference:

"I think I agree with you. I have known her a number of years. Her
father was a great friend of my father's."

"Indeed?" she replied, raising her eyebrows a little, then letting her
gaze rest full on mine. "That is interesting. I am a believer in