He yielded again; and a few minutes later she prepared to leave him. The plans they had meant to make were still chaotic--chaotic as her mind.
She realized, as she pinned on her hat, as she let him help her into her coat, that the sweet hour had been full of danger, that--had Ronnie been less chivalrous, more the man and less the boy--she might have given way to him. The realization made her very humble; and in her humility she began to doubt herself.
"You--you've been very good to me," she said; and then, the vivid lashes veiling her vivid eyes, her low voice trembling into shyness: "That's why there's just one--one favor I must ask you."
"Favors! Between us!" He took her ungloved hands, and pressed them to his lips.
"Yes, dear. It's about--about your mother."
"Julia!" His tone hardened. "But we discussed all that last time."
"We mustn't hurt her more than we can help. We must tell her the truth, before--before we do anything. She's a woman, and perhaps--perhaps she'll understand----"
"Aliette----" He hesitated; and her intuition leaped to the cause.
"You--you haven't quarreled with her?"
Her intuition startled him into reply: "Yes. We have quarreled. But I can't tell you anything about it."