126 IN A WINTER CITY.
" To Uve decently ?—no, I suppose it is not
now-a-days. Perhaps it never was. But, my
dear Mila, you needn't be too disquieted about
me. If it make you any more comfortable as to
my sanity, I can assure you it is not virtue; no
one knows such a word; it is only indifference."
"You are very queer, HUda," said Madame
MUa, impatiently ; " all I know is, I should like
to see you iu love, and see what you*d say
then.*'
The Lady HUda, who was never more moved
by her feather-headed cousin's words than a rock
by a butterfly, felt a sudden warmth on her face
—perhaps of anger.
" In love ! " she echoed, with less languor and
more of impetuosity than she had ever displayed,
" are you ever in love, any of you, ever ? You
have senses and vanity and an inordinate fear of
not being in the fashion—and so you take your
lovers as you drink your stimulants and wear
your wigs and tie your skfrts back—because
everybody else does it, and not to do it is to be
odd, or prudish, or something you would hate to
be caUed. Love! it is an unknown thing to you aU,
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