“She wasn’t born yesterday. Well, do as you like, of course, but it’s the chance of a lifetime. I’m sure of that. Just hold out for a month—tell him you couldn’t think of going anywhere with him—and see if he doesn’t suggest your becoming the second Mrs. Williams.”
“You’re mad, Ireen,” said Elsie, entirely without conviction.
She was in reality very much impressed both by Irene’s worldly wisdom and by the sudden realisation it had brought to her of the possibilities latent in Mr. Williams’ admiration.
She disliked having to work, and she knew that marriage was her only escape from work. To be married very young would be a triumph, and she thought with malicious satisfaction of how much she would enjoy asking Aunt Gertie and Aunt Ada to visit her in her own house.
“Well, good-night,” said Irene’s voice in her ear. “I’m going to sleep. If you want to get over to your place early in the morning, don’t wake me, that’s all.”
“All right.”
Elsie turned over, gave a fleeting thought to the memory of the man she had met that evening, and fell asleep almost at once.
The next morning, after huddling on her clothes, and washing her face very hastily just before putting on her hat over her unbrushed hair, Elsie crossed the street and went home.
Mrs. Palmer was on the doorstep.
She was very angry.