“No, never. I hate men!” she exclaimed, with such energy that Mrs. Beach, a keen student of human nature, exclaimed:
“Ah, then, you have had a lover?”
Pansy saw that she had betrayed herself by her vehemence, and, hanging her head bashful she sighed:
“Yes, I had a lover once, and he proved false to me. No one else shall ever make love to me again.”
“Poor child!” said the lady compassionately. She remained silent a few moments, then said: “I hope you will not think me a meddlesome old lady, Pansy, but I have been thinking of your future. If I should die, what would become of you?”
Pansy burst into passionate tears. “I should never find such a noble friend again,” she sobbed.
“I have been thinking of that,” said Mrs. Beach, laying her thin hand gently on the bowed head. “Your future has been on my mind for some time. You ought to be learning something by which you could support yourself. There are many avenues of support open to women now.”
“Oh, I know it, but I have had no chance to learn anything. Dear, noble friend, if only you could suggest something!” cried Pansy gratefully.
“I will think over it a few days, and then advise you,” answered Mrs. Beach gravely.
And at the end of a week she told Pansy that she believed that typewriting would prove a remunerative business for a young girl.