"You mean Dolly?" Mostyn's tongue felt thick and inactive.

"Yes, I mean Dolly." Mrs. Moore continued to laugh. "When I saw her she was young enough to play with a doll, though I believe she was reading some serious book. Well, she is pretty--I can't dispute it-- and Jarvis declares she is more than that. To do her full justice, she looked like a girl of strong character. I remember how the young thing stared through her long lashes at me that day. Yes, I knew she would turn your head. Dick, you are a man summer flirt. You are even more; you enjoy the distinction of actually believing, temporarily, at least, in every flirtation you indulge in. You have imagination, and it plays you terrible pranks. You wouldn't have been home so soon--you would even have been in your usual hot water over the girl--but for your obligation to Irene Mitchell."

Mostyn tried to be resolute. He was conscious of his frailty of purpose, of his lack of sincerity when he spoke.

"I am not obligated to Irene, and, what is more, Bess, I have positively made up my mind to marry the little girl you are speaking of."

The woman's eyes flickered, her lips became more rigid. It was as if a certain pallor lay beneath her transparent skin and was forcing itself out. He heard her exhale a long breath.

"To think that you could actually sit here and say as ridiculous a thing as that to me in a serious tone," she said, in an attempt at lightness. "Why, Dick, whatever your faults are, you are not a fool."

"I hope not," he said, weakly defiant. "I really care very much for the girl. You see, I knew her three years ago. You needn't oppose me, Bess; I have made up my mind."

"You have done no such thing!" Mrs. Moore blurted out. "That is the pity of it--the absurdity of it. You haven't made up your mind--that is just exactly what you haven't done. You thought you had, I don't doubt, when you said good-by to her, but already you are full of doubt, and in a frightful stew. You show it in your face. You know and I know that you cannot carry that thing through. You are not that type of man. Jarvis Saunders could. If he ever marries, he will marry like that. It wouldn't surprise me to see him walk off any day with some stenographer, with nothing but a shirt-waist for a trousseau, but you --you--Oh, Lord! You are quite a different proposition."




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