Jeannette felt vaguely irritated.
“Oh, let’s not rush him, Mama.”
“Rush him? Who’s talking of rushing him, I’d like to know? The young man is a very delightful, presentable gentleman, and he’s evidently taken a great fancy to you, and he’s even been nice to your poor old mother. I declare, Janny, I can’t sometimes make you out! I just was proposing we extend him a little hospitality in return for his extremely lavish entertainment. He’s been most kind and considerate, and the least we can do....”
Jeannette’s mind wandered. It certainly would be wonderful, went her roving thoughts, to have money, and dress gorgeously, and go about to such magnificent restaurants, and then taxi off to the theatre, whenever one wanted to! It would be wonderful, too, to have somebody strong and resourceful always looking out for one’s comfort and enjoyment, paying all the bills, never bothering one about money, consulting and gratifying one’s slightest whim!
She went to sleep in a haze of golden imaginings. Her mother’s voice in the next room planning various schemes, commenting upon Mr. Devlin’s attractiveness, grew fainter and fainter, and finally dwindled silent.
§ 7
But the next morning Jeannette vigorously attacked the subject. There had been nothing extraordinary about the past evening. A man in conventional evening dress had taken her mother and herself to dine in a restaurant, and afterwards had driven them in a taxi to the theatre. What was there so remarkable in that? It was being done all the time; the restaurants were packed full of such parties night after night. It had merely seemed wonderful to a girl and her mother unused to such entertainment.
Jeannette kept reminding herself of this throughout the ensuing day. She did not propose to have her head turned, as her mother’s evidently was, by a little splurge of money. She was not in love with Martin Devlin, she did not care a snap of her finger for him, she would not marry him if he had a million! There was no sense in letting him think she would even consider such an idea. She couldn’t help it, if he was in love with her. She had done nothing to encourage him, and she didn’t propose to begin. No, the whole thing had better come to an end; it had gone quite far enough; she’d have to call off any silly plans her mother might be making.... What! Marry Martin Devlin and give up her job? Never in the world!
But Jeannette found she was dealing with a personality very different from that of Roy Beardsley. Mr. Devlin had one idea, one object: the idea was Jeannette, the object matrimony. He besieged her with attentions, he gave her no peace, he hounded her footsteps. Mrs. Sturgis threw herself whole-heartedly upon his side. She was deaf to her daughter’s remonstrances; she refused to be discourteous, as she described it, to a young man so attentive and considerate. Mother and daughter actually quarrelled about the matter, refused to speak to each other for a whole day, made up with tears and kisses, but this in no jot altered Mrs. Sturgis’ purpose of being Mr. Devlin’s friend and advocate.
Jeannette was not to be shaken. She did not desire Mr. Devlin, she did not want to marry anyone, she had no intention of abandoning her work.