“I—I suppose so.”
Aggie presented the truth more subtly than could have been expected from her.
“Think a lot of you? Of course he does! Thinks enough to marry you! And believe me, kid, when a man thinks enough of you to marry you, well, that's some thinking!”
Somehow, the crude expression of this professional adventuress penetrated to Mary's conscience, though it held in it the truth to which her conscience bore witness, to which she had tried to shut her ears.... And now from the man came something like a draught of elixir to her conscience—like the trump of doom to her scheme of vengeance.
Garson spoke very softly, but with an intensity that left no doubt as to the honesty of his purpose.
“I'd say, throw up the whole game and go to him, if you really care.”
There fell a tense silence. It was broken by Mary herself. She spoke with a touch of haste, as if battling against some hindrance within.
“I married him to get even with his father,” she said. “That's all there is to it.... By the way, I expect Dick will be here in a minute or two. When he comes, just remember not to—enlighten him.”
Aggie sniffed indignantly.
“Don't worry about me, not a mite. Whenever it's really wanted, I'm always there with a full line of that lady stuff.” Thereupon, she sprang up, and proceeded to give her conception of the proper welcoming of the happy bridegroom. The performance was amusing enough in itself, but for some reason it moved neither of the two for whom it was rendered to more than perfunctory approval. The fact had no depressing effect on the performer, however, and it was only the coming of the maid that put her lively sallies to an end.