"Where have you been?" cried Stanley.
"Making up my mind," said she in the tone that forewarns of a storm.
A brief pause. She struggled in vain against an impulse to look at Keith. When her eyes turned in his direction he, not looking at her, moved in his listless way toward the door. Said he:
"The auto's waiting. Come on."
She vacillated, yielded, began to put on the wraps Stanley was collecting for her. It was a big touring-car, and they sat two and two, with the chauffeur alone. Keith was beside Mildred. When they were under way, she said:
"Why did you stop me? Perhaps I'll never have the courage again."
"Courage for what?" asked he.
"To take your advice, and break off."
"MY advice?"
"Yes, your advice."