I can't flirt. I haven't an ounce of
coquetry in me. I think I almost hate--"
"You mean you hate what your experience has been. The right man for you,
dear, a man with enough of the materialist to hold you in check and
enough of youth and vision and ideals to soar with you. No, no, you
don't hate him, Lilly."
"Why--why--who?"
"Oh, I've seen it flash between the two of you. I've watched it being
silently born. Lilly child, look at me!"
"Why, Mrs. Blair! Why--Mrs. Blair! I've never seen him outside of office
hours in my life. I never laid eyes on him until he walked in that night
from Chicago. Why, I--I'm a married woman! He's younger--than I--a year!
He knows there is Zoe. He sent her up a little hobbyhorse from the
property room. Why, Mrs. Blair--of course if you look at me
like--that--"
She was suddenly in the older woman's arms, a passionate, a peony red
flooding her face and waving down her words. She was all for further
resistance, but her denial had taken on an archness for which she
somehow blushed.
Besides, it was suddenly delicious to huddle there, tingling in the
darkness.
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