"You mean, I might tell him I'd give him my answer when I was independent and had paid back."
Cyrilla nodded. Mildred relit her cigarette, which she had let go out. "I had thought of that," said she. "But—I doubt if he'd tolerate it. Also"—she laughed with the peculiar intonation that accompanies the lifting of the veil over a deeply and carefully hidden corner of one's secret self—"I am afraid. If I don't marry him, in a few weeks, or months at most, he'll probably find out that I shall never be a great singer, and then I'd not be able to marry him if I wished to."
"He IS a temptation," said Cyrilla. "That is, his money is—and he personally is very nice."
"I married a man I didn't care for," pursued Mildred. "I don't want ever to do that again. It is—even in the best circumstances—not agreeable, not as simple as it looks to the inexperienced girls who are always doing it."
"Still, a woman can endure that sort of thing," said Mrs. Brindley, "unless she happens to be in love with another man." She was observing the unconscious Mildred narrowly, a state of inward tension and excitement hinted in her face, but not in her voice.
"That's just it?" said Mildred, her face carefully averted. "I—I happen to be in love with another man."
A spasm of pain crossed Cyrilla's face.
"A man who cares nothing about me—and never will. He's just a friend—so much the friend that he couldn't possibly think of me as—as a woman, needing him and wanting him"—her eyes were on fire now, and a soft glow had come into her cheeks—"and never daring to show it because if I did he would fly and never let me see him again."
Cyrilla Brindley's face was tragic as she looked at the beautiful girl, so gracefully adjusted to the big chair. She sighed covertly. "You are lovely," she said, "and young—above all, young."
"This man is peculiar," replied Mildred forlornly. "Anyhow, he doesn't want ME. He knows me for the futile, weak, worthless creature I am. He saw through my bluff, even before I saw through it myself. If it weren't for him, I could go ahead—do the sensible thing—do as women usually do. But—" She came to a full stop.