It is remarkable with what a clear conscience a woman can lie when she is deprecating what she knows to be her own charms.
“But you’re not,” protested Barry. “There isn’t a woman in my set, in fact there isn’t a woman in the upper grade of society in this city, one half so handsome as you are.”
Barry’s tongue was becoming loosened by his earnestness. The widow’s eyes narrowed a trifle, but if there was any danger behind them they did not reveal it.
“And if that were true what advantage would it be to me,” she asked, “belonging as I do to the lower classes?”
Barry’s answer came promptly and decisively.
“It has been of advantage to you, Mrs. Bradley. It has attracted me to you.”
She looked at him curiously.
“It is not always wise or prudent,” she said, “for women belonging to the lower classes to attract rich and aristocratic young gentlemen to them.”
“But I’m in earnest, Mrs. Bradley. I’m awfully in earnest. I—I must have you.”