“You do forgive me for coming in to see you this crazy way, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes—yes, I do——” Suddenly the grey eyes flashed tears.
“You sweet child!” said Betsy Blythe, stooping over her. “You’re nice. A woman can tell, no matter what a pig of a man might think. I like you, Eris. I want you to get on. I’d love to have you make good some day.” She added naïvely: “—If only to put Barry Annan’s nose out of joint.”
Eris had covered her wet lashes with her fore-arm. Now she removed it.
“Mr. Annan has been wonderful,” she said in a tear-congested voice.
“Three cheers!” said Betsy, laughing. “You’re a loyal youngster, aren’t you? Everybody likes Barry Annan. Several love him. But you mustn’t,” she added with a gravity that deceived Eris.
“Oh, no,” she said hurriedly, “I wouldn’t think of such a thing.”
At that Betsy’s clear laughter rang out in the room. Eris blushed furiously; then, suddenly and swiftly en rapport, laughed too.
“He’s so nice and so spoiled,” said Betsy. “That bland grin of his!—and he is clever—oh, very. He knows how to make your heart jump when he writes. In private character he’s kind but mischievous. He’ll experiment with a girl if she’ll let him. It interests him to try cause and effect on us. Don’t you let him. He has that terrible talent for swift intimacy. That caressing courtesy, that engaging and direct interest he seems to take in whoever he is with, means no more than a natural and kindly consideration for everybody. It misleads some women. I don’t mean he does, intentionally. Only any man, seeing a pretty girl inclined to be flattered, is likely to investigate further. I don’t blame him. We do it, too, don’t we?”
“I never did,” said Eris naïvely.