"I am glad. Margaret is a nice girl. I am going to take Patty Vetch."
He started, and though she was not looking at him, she knew that his face grew pale. "Don't you think she will look lovely, just like a mermaid, in green and silver?" she asked lightly.
"I don't know," he answered stiffly. "I am trying not to think about her."
Corinna laughed. "Oh, my dear, just wait until you see her in that sea-green gown!"
That he was caught fast in the web of the tribal instinct, Corinna realized as perfectly as if she had seen the net closing visibly round him. Though she was unaware of the blow Patty had dealt him, she felt his inner struggle through that magical sixth sense which is the gift of the understanding heart, of the heart that has outgrown the shell of the personal point of view. If he would only for once break free from artificial restraints! If he would only let himself be swept into something that was larger than his own limitations!
"I am very fond of Patty," she said. "The more I see of her, the finer I think she is."
His lips did not relax. "There is a great deal of talk at the club about the Governor."
"Oh, this strike of course! What do they say?"
"A dozen different things. Nobody knows exactly how to take him."
"I wonder if we have ever understood him," said Corinna, a little sadly. "I sometimes think—" Then she broke off hurriedly. "No, don't get out, I'll take you down to your office. I sometimes think," she resumed, "that none of us see him as he really is because we see him through a veil of prejudice, or if you like it better, of sentiment—"