Beatrice looked at her reflection in the glass. There was little feminine vanity in the glance—rather a cool judging and appraising, untempered with any personal prejudice.
"I suppose I could," she admitted.
"Won't you?"
"Would it make you very happy?"
"It would be my first moment's real peace since I saw Mr. Travers at the garden-party."
"Well, I'll do my best."
"You promise?"
"Yes, I'll promise if you want me to."
Mrs. Cary drew a deep sigh of relief.
"That's one thing about you, you keep your promises, Beatrice," she said.