"Right, honey—you've got your chance now. Cut away all the rest!"
"Yes, I must," Dodo answered, drawing a long breath, gazing out of the great bay-window to where the Metropolitan tower, like a great stalk among the weeds, was silhouetted against the changing white and yellow clouds. She had been abrupt, she had been cruel, yet she knew she had only done what she had to do. Snyder had understood, the readjustment was to be profound.
"Sure, you must," said Snyder standing before her stubbornly. "Oil and water don't mix. Don't you get sentimental—don't you flinch—cut it all out! Start new." She nodded twice resolutely, turned and going to the bed, flung on her coat and slapped on her hat in her familiar way. She came back struggling in the sleeves. "The room's yours."
Dodo, a little embarrassed, felt called upon for an explanation.
"You see I want it for a particular—" she began, only to be interrupted.
"Cut out explanations. It's yours. Well, honey, you've got a bully start, hang on to it—hang on hard. Good luck—good-by."
Suddenly Dodo comprehended. She caught the woman in indignant revolt.
"Not you, Snyder! Never you!"
"Oh, yes—me more than the rest," said Snyder heavily.
"Oh, no, no! Never!"