"She's such a queer mixture of shrewdness and simplicity," she went on.

"She doesn't seem ever to have gone anywhere, or seen anyone, and yet she's so--so mature! I believe she's exactly your age." "I feel about a hundred to-day," said Bubbles wearily.
Blanche was wondering how she could open on the subject about which she'd promised to speak to the girl.

Somehow she always very much disliked speaking to Bubbles of what she called, in her own mind, "all that unhealthy rot and nonsense!" And yet she must say something--she had promised Lionel Varick to do so.
Bubbles' next words gave her no opening.
"I have no use for Helen Brabazon," she said pettishly.

"A very little of her would bore me to death.

But still, I amused myself at dinner last night thinking what I should do if I had all her money." "All her money ?" repeated Blanche, puzzled.
"Don't you know that she's one of the richest girls in England ?" "Is that really true ?"--Blanche felt surprised, and more than surprised, keenly interested.