"You speak as though persuading me from some fearful sin," she returned coldly.
Edith drew her hand away and a crimson flush surmounted her face.
"Pardon me, Mrs. Lambert, I speak too freely. You are offended. But I thought that you wouldn't mind."
For a moment Mrs. Lambert looked intently down at the girl's downcast face. The frown slowly vanished. Then the old sunny smile came back, and her hand impulsively sought that of Edith's.
"No, I'm not offended. You are just too new for me, that is all. New things always irritate me. I like the smooth and trodden path. But you must talk with me again some time." She laughed softly. "On top I don't like it at all, but down deep, it feels real good and refreshing. You are like a whiff of fresh air in a long closed room. I don't like the draught, but I do like the fresh air! Can you understand?"
Edith laughed a genuine girlish laugh.
"Then we must not open the window too suddenly!" she exclaimed brightly, and the two women looked frankly into each other's eyes.
The guests arriving prevented further conversation.
Edith found herself introduced to about fifty ladies, all of whom were "charmed" to meet her. She was very much accustomed to meeting strangers who were desirous of knowing the daughter of Mr. Esterbrook, but she cared little for these affairs. She enjoyed meeting individuals, but not numbers. When the room became full of chatty women, all indulging in the same light small talk, Edith became bored. She tried not to show it. Unconsciously she assumed an air of quiet reserve, which some mistook for hauteur. So, in spite of her beauty, she was not popular, and had she not borne the name of Esterbrook, society would have frozen her out. This afternoon she tried to be pleasing, but it was at best a forced attempt. The girl so animated and at home before the guests arrived, became silent and constrained when the room was filled. This irritated Mrs. Lambert considerably.
When asked by most of the ladies individually, "Why, surely you play Bridge?"—Edith seemed capable of only one reply, "Yes, but I have been persuaded to never play again." The ladies raised their brows and exchanged glances. Most of them had heard that Edith was eccentric, so they asked no further questions. It seemed to Mrs. Lambert that she might have given some other reply—not just to show her disapproval of the game that they all enjoyed. The momentary understanding between Edith and herself was soon almost entirely erased by impatience at the girl's frankness.