"I'll teach you if you would care to learn."
"I don't think I could. I've got such stiff fingers for things like that. They're good enough for typing. Basil, did I tell you about that last woman of mine?"
It was during the recital of this tale that Mrs. Morton left the room. Theresa stopped and looked at the closing door.
"Was I saying anything wrong?" she asked. "I am so used to talking frankly to Mr. Smith and Jack, that I forget other people may not like it. Was I?"
"No, dear, but the whole thing is rather disagreeable to her."
"But how?"
"Well, you see——"
"Is it that she doesn't like you to marry a woman who has earned her own living?"
"That, of course, was rather a shock. Darling, try to understand her attitude. She has old-fashioned notions of womanhood. She thinks you should not have been allowed to do the work you did, and I own that it seems unnatural to me, too. But you are wonderful, Theresa. You are the exceptional woman who can do these things. You are unscathed."
She stood up and fell into that attitude in which he had first seen her.