Closer she peered into the mirror. Her nose was not so bad; it could not be called piquant, nor yet pure Greek, but it was a straight, American nose. And at any rate her eyes were fairly attractive; if one wished to be flattering they might even be called handsome. They were almost steel color, large and clear, with blue and gray lights in them. Her eyebrows and lashes were much darker than her hair. If only their expression had not always been so serious!
Turning her head first on one side and then on the other, attempting to dart ardent, challenging glances at herself, suddenly Mildred made a little grimace. Then throwing back her head she laughed. Instantly the attraction she had been hoping for appeared in her face although the girl herself was not aware of it.
“Mildred Thornton, what an utter goose you are! It is tragic enough to be a stick and a wall flower. But when you attempt behaving like the girls who are belles, you simply look mad.”
Moving aside from the mirror Mildred now let her party gown slip to the floor.
She was standing in the center of a beautiful room whose walls were gray and gold. The rug under her feet was also gray with a deep border of yellow roses. Her bed was of mahogany and there was a mahogany writing desk and table and low chairs of the same material. Through an open door one could glimpse a private sitting room even more charming. Indeed, as there was no possible luxury missing so there could be no doubt that Mildred Thornton was a fortunately wealthy girl, which of course meant that she had nothing to trouble her.
Nevertheless, at this moment Mildred was thinking, “Oh, if only I were thirty instead of nineteen, I wonder if I might be allowed to be happy in my own way.”
Then without remembering to throw a dressing gown across her shoulders, tip-toeing across the floor without any apparent reason, the girl unlocked a secret drawer in her desk. Opening it she drew out a large, unusual looking envelope. She was staring at this while her eyes were slowly filling with tears, when there came a sudden knock at her door.
At the same instant the envelope was thrust back into the drawer, and not until then did Mildred answer or move toward her door.
A visit from her mother tonight was really one of the last things in the world she desired. It was wicked to have so little sympathy with one’s own mother and the fault was of course hers. But tonight she was really too tired and depressed to explain why she had made no more effort to be agreeable. Her mother would insist that she had only herself to blame for her evening’s failure. It was hard, of course, that so beautiful a woman could not have had a handsome daughter as well as a handsome son.
But instead of her mother, there in the hall stood a tall, thin man, whose light hair had turned gray. He had a strong, powerful face, deeply lined, one that both men and women turned to look at the second time.