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This
partly
consoled
her
for
missing
so
much
of
what
made
their
“
good
time
”
;
but
the
resulting
sense
of
exclusion
,
of
being
somehow
laughingly
but
firmly
debarred
from
a
share
of
their
privileges
,
threw
her
back
on
herself
and
deepened
the
reserve
which
made
envious
mothers
cite
her
as
a
model
of
ladylike
repression
.
Love
,
she
told
herself
,
would
one
day
release
her
from
this
spell
of
unreality
.
She
was
persuaded
that
the
sublime
passion
was
the
key
to
the
enigma
;
but
it
was
difficult
to
relate
her
conception
of
love
to
the
forms
it
wore
in
her
experience
.
Two
or
three
of
the
girls
she
had
envied
for
their
superior
acquaintance
with
the
arts
of
life
had
contracted
,
in
the
course
of
time
,
what
were
variously
described
as
“
romantic
”
or
“
foolish
”
marriages
;
one
even
made
a
runaway
match
,
and
languished
for
a
while
under
a
cloud
of
social
reprobation
.
Here
,
then
,
was
passion
in
action
,
romance
converted
to
reality
;
yet
the
heroines
of
these
exploits
returned
from
them
untransfigured
,
and
their
husbands
were
as
dull
as
ever
when
one
had
to
sit
next
to
them
at
dinner
.
Her
own
case
,
of
course
,
would
be
different
.
Some
day
she
would
find
the
magic
bridge
between
West
Fifty
-
fifth
Street
and
life
;
once
or
twice
she
had
even
fancied
that
the
clue
was
in
her
hand
.
The
first
time
was
when
she
had
met
young
Darrow
.
She
recalled
even
now
the
stir
of
the
encounter
.
But
his
passion
swept
over
her
like
a
wind
that
shakes
the
roof
of
the
forest
without
reaching
its
still
glades
or
rippling
its
hidden
pools
.
He
was
extraordinarily
intelligent
and
agreeable
,
and
her
heart
beat
faster
when
he
was
with
her
.
He
had
a
tall
fair
easy
presence
and
a
mind
in
which
the
lights
of
irony
played
pleasantly
through
the
shades
of
feeling
.
She
liked
to
hear
his
voice
almost
as
much
as
to
listen
to
what
he
was
saying
,
and
to
listen
to
what
he
was
saying
almost
as
much
as
to
feel
that
he
was
looking
at
her
;
but
he
wanted
to
kiss
her
,
and
she
wanted
to
talk
to
him
about
books
and
pictures
,
and
have
him
insinuate
the
eternal
theme
of
their
love
into
every
subject
they
discussed
.
Whenever
they
were
apart
a
reaction
set
in
.
She
wondered
how
she
could
have
been
so
cold
,
called
herself
a
prude
and
an
idiot
,
questioned
if
any
man
could
really
care
for
her
,
and
got
up
in
the
dead
of
night
to
try
new
ways
of
doing
her
hair
.
But
as
soon
as
he
reappeared
her
head
straightened
itself
on
her
slim
neck
and
she
sped
her
little
shafts
of
irony
,
or
flew
her
little
kites
of
erudition
,
while
hot
and
cold
waves
swept
over
her
,
and
the
things
she
really
wanted
to
say
choked
in
her
throat
and
burned
the
palms
of
her
hands
.
Often
she
told
herself
that
any
silly
girl
who
had
waltzed
through
a
season
would
know
better
than
she
how
to
attract
a
man
and
hold
him
;
but
when
she
said
“
a
man
”
she
did
not
really
mean
George
Darrow
.
Then
one
day
,
at
a
dinner
,
she
saw
him
sitting
next
to
one
of
the
silly
girls
in
question
:
the
heroine
of
the
elopement
which
had
shaken
West
Fifty
-
fifth
Street
to
its
base
.
The
young
lady
had
come
back
from
her
adventure
no
less
silly
than
when
she
went
;
and
across
the
table
the
partner
of
her
flight
,
a
fat
young
man
with
eye
-
glasses
,
sat
stolidly
eating
terrapin
and
talking
about
polo
and
investments
.
The
young
woman
was
undoubtedly
as
silly
as
ever
;
yet
after
watching
her
for
a
few
minutes
Miss
Summers
perceived
that
she
had
somehow
grown
luminous
,
perilous
,
obscurely
menacing
to
nice
girls
and
the
young
men
they
intended
eventually
to
accept
.
Suddenly
,
at
the
sight
,
a
rage
of
possessorship
awoke
in
her
.
She
must
save
Darrow
,
assert
her
right
to
him
at
any
price
.
Pride
and
reticence
went
down
in
a
hurricane
of
jealousy
.
She
heard
him
laugh
,
and
there
was
something
new
in
his
laugh
.
.
.
.
She
watched
him
talking
,
talking
.
.
.
.
He
sat
slightly
sideways
,
a
faint
smile
beneath
his
lids
,
lowering
his
voice
as
he
lowered
it
when
he
talked
to
her
.
She
caught
the
same
inflections
,
but
his
eyes
were
different
.
It
would
have
offended
her
once
if
he
had
looked
at
her
like
that
.
Now
her
one
thought
was
that
none
but
she
had
a
right
to
be
so
looked
at
.
And
that
girl
of
all
others
!
What
illusions
could
he
have
about
a
girl
who
,
hardly
a
year
ago
,
had
made
a
fool
of
herself
over
the
fat
young
man
stolidly
eating
terrapin
across
the
table
?
If
that
was
where
romance
and
passion
ended
,
it
was
better
to
take
to
district
visiting
or
algebra
!
All
night
she
lay
awake
and
wondered
:
“
What
was
she
saying
to
him
?
How
shall
I
learn
to
say
such
things
?
”
and
she
decided
that
her
heart
would
tell
her
—
that
the
next
time
they
were
alone
together
the
irresistible
word
would
spring
to
her
lips
.
He
came
the
next
day
,
and
they
were
alone
,
and
all
she
found
was
:
“
I
didn
’
t
know
that
you
and
Kitty
Mayne
were
such
friends
.
”
