Hal, with her quick, light gracefulness, crossed to him, and playfully gave him a little shake.
“Dudley, you dear old idiot. I don’t know about being reasonable, but I can certainly be honest; and it’s honest I’m going to be now. I think it is almost a slur on Lorraine to mention a little, silly, dolly-faced, conceited creature like Doris in the same breath; and as for being friendly to her tomorrow evening, that’s impossible, because I shall not be here. I’m going to the Denisons, and I don’t intend to postpone it. You will have to write and tell her I am engaged.”
Dudley’s mouth quickly assumed the rigidity which denoted he was greatly displeased, and his voice was frigid as he replied:
“You are very injust to Doris. You scarcely know her, and yet you condemn her offhand: the fault you are always finding in me. As for any comparison between her and Miss Vivian, it is very certain she would not sell herself to a man, and then run away from him because things did not turn out as she wanted them.”
Hal turned away, with a slight shrug and a humorous expression as of helplessness.
“We won’t argue, mon frère, because, since you always read books instead of people, you are not very well up in the subject. To put it both candidly and vulgarly, I haven’t any use for Doris Hayward at all. Ethel I admire tremendously, though I don’t think she likes me; and Basil is a saint straight out of heaven, suffering martyrdom for no conceivable reason, but Doris is like a useless ornamental china shepherdess, which ought to be put on a high shelf where it can’t get itself nor any one else into trouble. I’m really dreadfully afraid if I had to spend a whole evening alone with her, I should drop her and break her to relieve my feelings.”
“Well, you needn’t worry”—moving coldly away. “I have far too much respect for Doris to allow her to come here just to be criticised by you. I will explain that you are unexpectedly engaged,” and he opened a paper in a manner to close the conversation.
Hal made a little grimace at him behind it, and retired discreetly to prepare for her daily sojourn in the City.
It happened, however, when, a year later, Lorraine came back to take up her theatrical career again in England, there was some vague change in her that made Dudley less severe in his criticisms. Trouble had not hardened her, nor softened her, but it had made her a little less sure of herself, and a little more willing to please.
Hitherto she had taken rather a pleasure in shocking Dudley, under the impression that it would do him good and open his mind a little. Now she had a greater respect for his sterling side, and could smile kindly at his little foibles and fads. The result was that Dudley admitted, a trifle grudgingly, she had changed for the better, and rather looked forward to the occasional evenings she spent with Hal at their Bloomsbury apartments.