Bill had to own that such feelings did Mame real credit. But her attitude seemed to puzzle him a goodish bit; it was rather beyond the order of nature.
“You’re the nicest and best little girl I’ve met.” He was dogged, defiant. “And I mean to hold on to you for all I’m worth.”
Mame was horribly near tears, yet she still contrived to keep them in check. It was the bitterest moment life so far had given her. But this thing had to be.
XLVIII
AFTER a painful hour they parted and went their ways. Bill, in dudgeon, back to barracks; Mame with a heartache to Half Moon Street. All the way up Piccadilly she was accompanied by two voices. Mame Durrance you are a blame fool, said one. Stick it, girl, said the other. You are throwing away the chance of your life, said the Go-getter. If you really care for the boy, you just can’t marry him, said the Idealist.
Never had she felt so miserable as when she let herself into the flat. Luckily Violet was not there. She was able to relieve her overwrought feelings with a little private howl. Then she felt better. In fact she was able to sit down and compose a few halting lines to Bill embodying her final decision and giving her reasons for it. That achieved, she went to her bedroom and fetched the engagement ring which ten days ago had given her such joy.
I must have been cuckoo to have accepted it
Not half so cuckoo as you are now, you silly elf.
Miserably she packed it in its neat box and was in the act of enclosing the farewell letter when Violet came in. She had been taking the air.
One glance Violet gave to the red and swollen lids and the face of tragedy. “Why, my dear, dear child!” The vein of kindness in her was deep and true. Those piteous eyes, that piteous mouth very surely roused it. “Do tell me.” A naughty, dangerous little witch, but she was genuinely distressed to see Mame suffer. Something must have hurt her rather horribly. “Tell me, what is it?”