The lashes trembled slightly on her cheek. "Aren't we all bound by our mistakes—we women? Don't let us talk of such things! Ralph would never let me go abroad without him." She paused, and then, with a quick upward sweep of the lids: "After all, it's better it should be good-bye—since I'm paying for another mistake in being so unhappy at your going."
"Another mistake? Why do you call it that?"
"Because I've misunderstood you—or you me." She continued to smile at him wistfully. "And some things are best mended by a break."
He met her smile with a loud sigh—she could feel him in the meshes again. "IS it to be a break between us?"
"Haven't you just said so? Anyhow, it might as well be, since we shan't be in the same place again for months."
The frock-coated gentleman once more languished from his eyes: she thought she trembled on the edge of victory. "Hang it," he broke out, "you ought to have a change—you're looking awfully pulled down. Why can't you coax your mother to run over to Paris with you? Ralph couldn't object to that."
She shook her head. "I don't believe she could afford it, even if I could persuade her to leave father. You know father hasn't done very well lately: I shouldn't like to ask him for the money."
"You're so confoundedly proud!" He was edging nearer. "It would all be so easy if you'd only be a little fond of me…"
She froze to her sofa-end. "We women can't repair our mistakes. Don't make me more miserable by reminding me of mine."
"Oh, nonsense! There's nothing cash won't do. Why won't you let me straighten things out for you?"