You _feel_ England all the more
intensely now because you come fresh to her."
Diana sprang up, with a change of face--half laugh, half frown.
"Yes, I feel her! Above all, I feel her enemies!"
She let in her dog, a fine collie, who was scratching at the door. As
she stood before the fire, holding up a biscuit for him to jump at, she
turned a red and conscious face towards her companion. The fire in the
eyes, the smile on the lip seemed to say:
"There!--now we have come to it. This is my passion--my hobby--this is
_me_!"
"Her enemies! You are political?"
"Desperately!"
"A Tory?"
"Fanatical. But that's only part of it, 'What should they know of
England, that only England know!'"
Miss Mallory threw back her head with a gesture that became it.
"Ah, I see--an Imperialist?"
Diana nodded, smiling. She had seated herself in a chair by the
fireside. Her dog's head was on her knees, and one of her slender hands
rested on the black and tan. Mrs. Colwood admired the picture. Miss
Mallory's sloping shoulders and long waist were well shown by her simple
dress of black and closely fitting serge. Her head crowned and piled
with curly black hair, carried itself with an amazing self-possession
and pride, which was yet all feminine.
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