Mathilde shook her head.
“It’s just Pete as he is that I love. I don’t care which of us leads.”
“But you will.”
The girl had not yet reached a point where she could describe the very essence of her passion; she had to let this go. After a moment she said:
“I see now why you chose Mr. Farron.”
“You mean you have never seen before?”
“Not so clearly.”
Mrs. Farron bit her lips. To have missed understanding this seemed a sufficient proof of immaturity. She rose.
“Well, my darling,” she said in a tone of extreme reasonableness, “we shall decide nothing to-night. I know nothing against Mr. Wayne. He may be just the right person. We must see more of him. Do you know anything about his family?”
Mathilde shook her head. “He lives alone with his mother. His father is dead. She’s very good and interested in drunkards.”