'You can't imagine how it upsets me even to think of it.' Leonora seemed to appeal for his sympathy.
'Oh, yes, I can,' he replied. 'Didn't I tell you the other night that I knew exactly how you felt? But you've got to get over that, I guess. You've got to get on to yourself. Mr. Myatt told me what he said to you——'
'So Uncle Meshach has been talking about it too?' she interrupted.
'Why, yes, certainly. Of course he's quite right. Milly's bound to go her own way. Why not make up your mind to it, and help her, and straighten things out for her?'
'But——'
'Look here, Mrs. Stanway,' he leaned forward; 'will you tell me just why it upsets you to think of your daughter going on the stage?'
'I don't know. I can't explain. But it does.'
She smiled at him, smoothing out her gloves one after the other on her lap.
'It's nothing but superstition, you know,' he said gently, returning her smile.
'Yes,' she admitted. 'I suppose it is.'