I've never admired her.

I've always thought she was lacking in some things most people are supposed to be equipped with--for instance, a certain feeling about the death of a father who was always pretty decent to his daughter.

Henrietta's father died just, eleven months and twenty-seven days before your cousin's dance, but she couldn't stick out those few last days and make it a year; she was there." Alice stopped, then laughed ruefully, exclaiming, "But this is dreadful of me!" "Is it ?" "Blackguarding her to you when she's giving a big party for you! Just the way Henrietta would blackguard me to you--heaven knows what she WOULDN'T say if she talked about me to you! It would be fair, of course, but--well, I'd rather she didn't!" And with that, Alice let her pretty hand, in its white glove, rest upon his arm for a moment; and he looked down at it, not unmoved to see it there.

"I want to be unfair about just this," she said, letting a troubled laughter tremble through her appealing voice as she spoke.

"I won't take advantage of her with anybody, except just--you! I'd a little rather you didn't hear anybody blackguard me, and, if you don't mind--could you promise not to give Henrietta the chance ?" It was charmingly done, with a humorous, faint pathos altogether genuine; and Russell found himself suddenly wanting to shout at her, "Oh, you DEAR!" Nothing else seemed adequate; but he controlled the impulse in favour of something more conservative.
"Imagine any one speaking unkindly of you--not praising you!" "Who HAS praised me to you ?" she asked, quickly.
"I haven't talked about you with any one; but if I did, I know they'd----" "No, no!" she cried, and went on, again accompanying her words with little tremulous runs of laughter.