Mrs. Wylie closed the door before she spoke.
'This is bad,' she said.
'What is bad?'
'I believe,' replied Mrs. Wylie in her semi-serious, semi-cheerful way, 'that I have warned you already against the evil practice of sitting staring into the fire.'
Brenda laughed softly, and met the kind gaze of the gray eyes that were searching her face.
'It has always seemed to me,' she said, 'that your philosophy is wanting in courage. It is the philosophy of a moral coward. It is braver and better to think out all thoughts—good and bad, sad and gay—as they come.'
Mrs. Wylie loosened her bonnet-strings, unhooked her sealskin jacket, and sat down.
'No,' she answered argumentatively. 'It is not the creed of a coward, no more than it is cowardly to avoid temptation. A practical man, however brave he may be, will do well to avoid temptation. A sensible woman will avoid thought.'
'I was thinking,' replied the girl diplomatically, 'of tea!'
From the expression of the widow's face it would seem that she accepted this statement with reservations. She made, however, no remark.