"You've talked to others like her, and—worse."
"Would you have me be cruel? If some of the poor, pretty creatures here aren't quite what they ought to be, because they've been badly brought up or unfortunate, would you think it right and womanly not to answer when they speak, or to turn one's back on them, or slam the Casino door in their faces, as some cross-looking people do? Wouldn't that drive them to being worse?"
It was difficult to answer this question with due regard to the laws of God and man, and at the same time give Galatea a lesson in social decorum. "I suppose," he said slowly, "you'll just have to follow your star."
"I don't see any star now worth following. Oh, Captain Hannaford, I was so happy! It was such a beautiful, lovely world till to-night! Now I feel as if joy and luck were both gone."
"Does it comfort you a little to know that here's one man who'd do anything for you?" he asked. "There never was such a friend as I'll try to be, if you'll have me."
"Thank you," Mary answered. "I shall be very glad of your friendship. I shall feel and remember it wherever I go."
"Wherever you go? You mean——"
"Yes. I think I must go away—go on to Italy."
"If somebody has hurt you, don't go yet," Hannaford urged. "It would look as if—well, as if you felt too much. Don't you see?"
"I shouldn't like to give that impression," she said, almost primly. Then, with a change of tone, "But I can't—I won't stay at the hotel where I am. To-night at her house Lady Dauntrey invited me to come and stay there. I was asked before, to Christmas dinner. I could accept, I suppose?"