“But, my dear, every woman is in the same predicament, if predicament it be!”
“What a consolation!” Hadria exclaimed, “all the foxes have lost their tails!”
“It may be illogical, but people generally are immensely comforted by that circumstance.”
The conversation waxed warmer and more personal. Fred took a conservative view of the question. He thought that there were instincts implanted by Nature, which inspired Mrs. Gordon with a yearning for exactly the sort of existence that fate had assigned to her. Algitha, who had been the recipient of that lady’s tragic confidences, broke into a shout of laughter.
“Well, Harold Wilkins says——”
This name was also greeted with a yell of derision.
“I don’t see why you girls always scoff so at Harold Wilkins,” said Fred, slightly aggrieved, “he is generally thought a lot of by girls. All Mrs. Gordon’s sisters adore him.”
“He needs no further worshippers,” said Hadria.
Fred was asked to repeat the words of Harold Wilkins, but to soften them down if too severe.
“He laughs at your pet ideas,” said Fred ruthlessly.