“The Militants haven’t disbanded—”
“Good lord, no. They’re all right. It’s I that have gone clean to the devil.”
“You?” Julia stared at her. Mrs. Herbert certainly looked worn, even haggard. The fresh color was no longer in her dark face, her black eyes were heavy as if with much wakefulness. Even her spirited nostrils hung limp.
“Do come out with it!” gasped Julia.
“I’m in love,” said Mrs. Herbert. And she sat down.
“Oh!” exclaimed Julia. And then she added thoughtfully, “What a bore.”
“Isn’t it? And I thought I was immune, having had the disease so hard the first time. But the young thirties! Oh, lord!”
“Can’t you get over it?”
“Can’t you imagine how I’ve tried? That’s the reason I look like this. It’s a wonder he doesn’t run when he sees me. But it’s no use. I’m done for.”
“What sort of a man can he be to bowl you over? Do I know him?”