Then the two sat in silence for ten impressive seconds.
"Bess," remarked Dorothy tentatively, "suppose mamma were to forbid me loving one whom I loved——" Here she broke down, aghast.
"My dear Dorothy," cried the other, surprised into deepest concern, "your mother didn't see him kissing your fingers, did she?"
"Oh, no, Bess," said Dorothy hurriedly, "we were quite alone."
"You foolish girl," returned Bess. "You alarmed me!"
"But really, Bess," persisted Dorothy, "to put it this way: if your mamma insisted, would you give way and marry a man you didn't love?"
"You mean Count Storri," replied Bess. "Now, Dorothy, listen to me. In the first place, you are an arrant hypocrite. You pretend to be soft and powerless and yielding, and to appeal to me for counsel. And all the time you are twice as obstinate as I am, and much less likely to accept a man you don't love, or give up one whom you love."
"Well, Bess," said Dorothy defensively, a bit stricken of these truths, "really, I want your opinions on marriage."
"Oh, that is it! Then snap your fingers in the teeth of command, and marry no man whom you do not love!"
"But the man you love might not want you!" sighed Dorothy.