She went on as if he had not spoken.
“She thinks no more of you than of a dozen others she has met in her small life.”
“You’re encouraging.”
“Oh,” said Helen sleepily, “do you want encouragement?”
He saw his slip, and looked more angry, but suddenly laughed.
“She’s naïve enough to be amusing in these days. Enthusiastic, and all that, and believing so intolerably in her career. No woman has a right to a career.”
“Beyond that of losing her heart to Arthur Fenwick.”
”—Until she’s over thirty, at all events. It’s got to be pointed out to her.”
“And you are engaged in the object-lesson? One after your own mind, isn’t it?” She spoke in a bitter tone as they strolled along the soft turf. A startled young partridge fluttered across the ride in front of them. Fenwick seemed to have quite recovered his temper, for he laughed lightly.
“What makes you so awfully down on me to-day?”