Helen did not answer, and he continued:
«Of course I am, disgustingly bitter, and it›s a beastly thing to be. But the worst of me is that I›m so envious. I envy every one. I can›t endure people who do things better than I do—perfectly absurd things too—waiters balancing piles of plates—even Arthur, because Susan›s in love with him. I want people to like me, and they don›t. It›s partly my appearance, I expect,» he continued, «though it›s an absolute lie to say I›ve Jewish blood in me—as a matter of fact we›ve been in Norfolk, Hirst of Hirstbourne Hall, for three centuries at least. It must be awfully soothing to be like you—every one liking one at once.»
«I assure you they don›t,» Helen laughed.
«They do,» said Hirst with conviction. «In the first place, you›re the most beautiful woman I
