She nodded in assent; and as she saw Bunny’s hands clench, she said, “You don’t have to do any heroics. There can’t be a shot-gun wedding when the bride refuses to attend.”
“Tell me about it, Bertie.”
“Well, we were in love quite desperately for a while, and I thought he was going to marry me. But then I saw he wouldn’t lay off other women, and I thought it over, and I decided, if I had a baby, he’d have to marry me, so I tried it.”
“Good God, Bertie!”
“You needn’t make faces. Thousands of women do it—it’s one of our tricks. But Charlie’s a yellow cur. When I told him about it, he behaved so disgustingly, I told him to go to hell. I got the name of a doctor that would fix me up, and Dad will have a thousand dollars to pay, and that’s all the damage.”
“Bertie,” he whispered, “why in the world do you have to do things like that?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll not do it again. I had to learn, like everybody else.”
“But why did you have to do it once? Trying to trap a rich man into marriage! Doesn’t Dad give you enough money?”
“That’s very easy for you to say, Bunny, you’re satisfied to get off in a corner and read some old book. But I’m not like that, I have to have a little life. Dad gives me pocket money, but that’s not what I want. I want a career—something of my own. And don’t start preaching at me, because I’m weak as a kitten and can’t stand anything just now. I wanted what every woman wants, a home of my own, and I didn’t want a bungalow, I wanted a place I could invite people to, and make some use of my talents as a hostess. Well, I fell down, and now I want somebody to be kind to me for a few minutes, if you’ve possibly got that in you.”
It looked as if the tears were coming into her eyes, so Bunny hastened to say, “All right, old girl, I’ll lay off. But naturally I was taken aback.”