“Perhaps not,” he acknowledged, reseating himself. “But somehow it has relieved the situation. At least, let it indicate that I accept your ultimatum.”
“If I knew you well enough,” commented Mrs. Percy-Bartlett smilingly, “I should say that that sounded rather cross. I hate to think that I have formulated an ultimatum. That seems unwomanly, does it not?”
“I hardly know,” he said musingly. “It is hard to tell in these days what is womanly and what is not. A few years ago we would have said that it was unwomanly for a girl to stand before a miscellaneous audience and make a political speech. No one would dare to take that ground now.”
Mrs. Percy-Bartlett smiled sympathizingly.
“I am sure,” she said, “that you don’t approve of the effort of woman to break away from the old restrictions.”
“Not altogether,” he answered frankly. “I have a strong vein of New England conservatism in my make-up. It revolts against many of the end-of-the-century ideas that are making such progress in this city.”
And so they talked on for a time, in a vein that proved the thorough efficacy of Mrs. Percy-Bartlett’s ultimatum.
“It is so much better,” she said, as she arose to give him her hand at parting, “it is so much better to talk about the ‘new woman’ than—than”—
“Than the old Adam,” he added. “Yes, I agree with you—for the sake of friendship.”
“And you are my friend,” she cried impulsively, while he still held her hand, suddenly grown cold.