So, with much gayety and chaff the repast came to an end, and the ladies, who were all old friends--no strangers now among them--disposed themselves in happy groups about one of the drawing-rooms, while they sipped their coffee.
Ethelrida drew Zara aside to talk to her alone.
"Zara," she said, taking her soft, white hand, "I am so awfully happy with my dear love that I want you to be so, too.

Dearest Zara, won't you be friends with me, now--real friends ?" And Zara, won by her gentleness, pressed Ethelrida's hand with her other hand.
"I am so glad, nothing my uncle could have done would have given me so much pleasure," she said, with a break in her voice.

"Yes, indeed, I will be friends with you, dear Ethelrida.

I am so glad--and touched--that you should care to have me as your friend." Then Ethelrida bent forward and kissed her.

"When one is as happy as I am," she said, "it makes one feel good, as if one wanted to do all the kind things and take away all sorrow out of the world.