"Yes; Mrs. Bradley always gives us a good time."
"But you were not dancing."
"No, I don't care much for it, and Toot—Mr. Wambush—had sprained his foot and said he'd rather not dance."
"That was very kind of you. Not many girls would be so considerate of a fellow's feelings."
She looked down at a brindled cat that came into the room and rubbed its side against her skirt.
"I don't think girls care enough about the feelings of men," she answered, after a little pause. "If they would treat them nicer they would be better."
"You think women can reform men then?"
"Yes, I do; though a man that drinks is mighty hard to manage. Sometimes they can't help it, and they drink more when women show that they have lost confidence in them."
He liked what she had said, notwithstanding its being an indirect defence of Wambush, but was prevented from answering by hearing his name angrily called in the street. This was followed by heavy footsteps on the veranda.
"Whar is that d——d livery man?" The voice was now in the hall.