“Oh, Bret! Bret! has my poor boy gone and fallen into the snare of some adventuress—some bad, bad woman?”
“Hush, mother; you mustn’t speak so. Sheila is a good girl, the best in the world.”
“I thought you said she was an actress.”
This seemed to end the argument, but he amazed her by proceeding: “She is! and a fine one, the best actress in the country—in the world.”
When Mrs. Winfield tried to prove from the profundity of her ignorance and her prejudice that an actress must be doomed he put his hand over his ears till she stopped. Then she began again:
“And are you going to follow this angel about, or is she going to reform?”
“She can’t quit just now. She has a contract, but after this season she’ll stop, and then we’ll get married.”
Mrs. Winfield caught at this eagerly. “You’re not going to marry her at once then?”
“No. I wish I could, but she can’t break her contract.”
Mrs. Winfield smiled and settled back with relief. She felt as if an earthquake had passed by, leaving her alive and the house still on its foundations. She knew Bret and she was sure that any marriage scheduled for next year was as good as canceled already.