"I shouldn't wonder
at all! There's a deal of hate about one way or another,--and if a lady
is as beautiful as an angel, and cuts out everybody wherever she goes,
why you can't expect the other ladies to be very fond of her. 'Tisn't in
human nature--at least not in feminine human nature. Men don't care much
about their looks, one way or the other, unless they're young
chaps--then one has a little patience with them and they come all
right."
But Britta had become meditative again. She went slowly up into her
mistress's room and began arranging the few trifles that had been left
in disorder.
"Just fancy!"--she said to herself--"some one may hate the Froeken even
in London just as they hated her in Bosekop, because she is so unlike
everybody else. _I_ shall keep my eyes open,--and _I_ shall soon find
out any wickedness against her! My beautiful, dear darling! I believe
the world is a cruel place after all,--but _she_ shan't be made unhappy
in it, if I can help it!"
And with this emphatic declaration, she kissed a little shoe of Thelma's
that she was just putting by--and, smoothing her curls, went down to her
supper.
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