“That’s Robert’s affair.”
“I was thinking of Dick.”
“That’s his affair. He had my answer long ago, and he knows I meant it. Besides,” she smiled a little, “don’t worry—I’ve lost my looks.”
“Dick is not that sort.”
“Every man is that sort.”
Mrs. Summers glanced at her, as she sat with the little mocking smile still on her lips.
“O Cis, dear,” she murmured, deprecatingly.
Cecily got up. “I must go,” she said; “I’m wearing you out.”
Mrs. Summers also rose. With a sudden movement she drew her friend into her arms. For a moment Cecily resisted. Then to the elder woman’s relief she broke into a passion of tears.
“I’ve been so wretched, Rose,” she whispered, incoherently. “He was everything to me. All the world! And now he goes to another woman, and tells her all the things that he used—and says all the words that—— Oh, what’s the good of talking!” she wailed. “It’s all over and done with. He doesn’t care any more. And I suppose he can’t help it. Sometimes I think I don’t care either. And then, all at once——”