Mercedes waited.
"Bill is right," I said, "as always. I think I'll not go, Mercedes, if you and Wright don't mind."
"Not at all," she said generously, "only," and here her voice grew wistful, "only the time is getting so short, Mavis. In two days I'll be going to Havana for the Mendez dance—and to stay. And then, before we know it, you will be going home again."
"But you're following shortly," I reminded her.
"With my family!" she added.
"Won't your Mother consider lending you to me for a while this summer?" I asked. "I shall be—" and almost I had said "so very lonely" before I thought. I stopped.
"Shall be what?" asked Mercedes, coming up the steps and dropping to my feet, on a crimson cushion.
"So very glad to see you," I answered, and truly.
"I wonder," said Mercedes.
"That's not very nice of you," I accused her.