“And hogs,” Baldy supplemented, dreamily. “Some people are like that.”
“He’s always been worshipped by women. And I didn’t fall at his feet. That’s why we didn’t get on. He ruled his mother and his servants—and he couldn’t rule me. And he’d run away to his affinities to be comforted, and they’d tell him what a cat I was——”
“Affinities?”
“Oh, I call them that, because there has always been a procession of them. Women he adores for the moment. But it never lasts, and they spoil him to death—and I won’t spoil him. I like my own way, too, sometimes, and I fight for it. And I am the only person in the world who makes Uncle Frederick lose his temper. And he hates that. His manners are lovely as a rule, but he simply blows up when we get into an argument.”
She was not a goddess—she was intensely human—a soul fighting to be free, and he wanted to help her fight.
“Look here,” he said suddenly, “if I were you I’d go back.”
“I will not.”
“I think you ought. Face things out. Let your uncle understand that there are to be no postmortems. It is the only thing to do. You can’t stay here forever.”
“Did Uncle Fred make you his ambassador?” coldly.
“He did not. When I came, I felt that I would do anything to keep you away from home as long as you liked. But I don’t feel that way now. You’ll just sit here and grow bitter about it—instead of thanking God on your knees.”