"I scarcely know, child. I am trying to save you from lifelong unhappiness—trying to tell you that—that men are not worth it—"
"How do you know?"
There was a silence, then Rita, very pale and quiet, leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and framing her face with her hands.
"I had my lesson," she said.
"You! Oh, my darling—forgive me! I did not know—"
Rita suffered herself to be drawn into the younger girl's impulsive embrace; they both cried a little, arms around each other, faltering out question and answer in unsteady whispers:
"Were you married, dearest?"
"No."
"Oh—I am so sorry, dear—"
"So am I…. Do you blame me for thinking about men as I do think?"