"Suppose I understand you better than you do yourself?"
She had glanced at him, seen the gleam in his eyes as he had drawn closer. And then very suddenly she had found it hard to breathe. What to say to stop him?
"At this moment," she had nearly gasped, "you appear to me so very—fat!"
That had bowled him over—naturally! In the next few moments the atmosphere had become chilly and depressed, and with a sudden rush of shame the certainty had grown upon her that she had made a fool of herself, that he had meant to do nothing at all. And from blushing furiously she had turned a little white, and had said to him:
"Please forgive me. I didn't mean that. I was—just a silly fool.
Let's go on with my lesson."
"Now that I've learned mine, you mean."
And then regaining control of herself she had turned upon him quickly:
"Oh, be sensible, for goodness' sake! How are you and I to be friends if you act like this, you silly boy? You ought to be ashamed of yourself!"
So she had got out of that all right, and had felt tremendously relieved. It was not only that she liked the man, he was besides her only hope, the one who could bring friends to her. "Women friends! That's what I need!" All this was so unsafe at times. Her husband's business, his two sides, Fanny Carr and her scheming, Dwight and his blue, twinkling eyes, Mrs. Grewe and her smiling good-fellowship—were all very nice and exciting. But safe? Oh, by no means!
But today as Ethel walked on through the Park, she smiled to herself expectantly. For Dwight had promised the next week to bring Sally Crothers to see her. "If only I can get on with her! She's my kind—I know she is—she's just exactly what I want. I don't want to be anything wild—not Mrs. Grewe nor Fanny Carr. I want to be myself, that's all, and happy with my husband!"