“I—oh, yes, I will!” she answered, with a sort of sob.
“You’re a brick—Minnie!” he cried, joyfully, and seized her warm little hand. “Sister Minnie! I won’t forget this!” And hastened off to send a telegram to Frankie.
“Coming to-morrow. Lionel.”
Minnie walked home very slowly. In the evenings she always played cards with the old lady from the time when she woke up from her after-dinner nap until eleven. This evening was just as usual. During the nap, which was never mentioned, Minnie sat looking over the morning paper, a decorous and sober little figure; then, when the querulous old voice suggested a game, she rose with well-paid cheerfulness, brought out the pack and the folding table, played conscientiously and amiably, led the old lady upstairs at the proper time, said “Good-night,” fetched her a glass of water, and then was free.
She retired to her own little room, locked the door after her, and stood still in the dark, with clenched hands.
“She shan’t have him!” she whispered. “I won’t give him up! I won’t! I won’t!”
Lionel didn’t suspect the effect his innocent grey eyes had had upon that heart, never before touched! But she had been fully aware, from the first time she had seen him. It was too startling and intense a feeling to be mistaken. She had made up her mind then. He was the one man on earth for her. She had never even fancied herself in love before, and never did again. It was her unique passion.
She didn’t deceive herself. She admitted that she intended to get Lionel away from Frankie by hook or by crook. Of course, being Minnie, she felt that it would be for his good and for Frankie’s good, and that she was doing it largely for their sakes. She and she alone was the infallible judge of what was best for everyone on earth. She had no misgivings on that score. Her only anxiety lay in her knowledge that Lionel was not at all attracted by her, and that, left to himself, he never would be. She wasn’t the sort of woman he liked.
Her original intention, when she had seen ample time ahead, had been to enlist old Mrs. Lounsbury on her side, to make everything very correct, very regular, in contrast to Frankie’s wildness. And then, later, to hold out prospects, all sorts of alluring prospects, of assistance from the old lady, of an unassailable “position” in their married life, of respectability and money, which she had seen that he coveted. For, like all women who can “manage” men, Minnie had an unerring flair for the weak point; that being the pivot upon which they may most easily be swung. She knew what she was doing when she asked Lionel to tea. She had first carefully prepared her aunt with stories, wholly fictitious, of his social standing and eligibility, and his affection for herself. She knew that he would appreciate the atmosphere of money and solidity there, and that it would reflect credit upon herself. The next step, already arranged with her approving aunt, was an invitation to dinner.
But that wouldn’t serve now, if he were going to be so impetuous. She would have to work quickly. If he saw Frankie again, or had many more letters from her, all would be lost. A desperate step was necessary, and she took it.