"Won't you sit down?" I said, leading the way to a divan with the idea of easing the situation. "Do have a pillow!--there, is that more comfortable? These sofas seem never to fit in to one's back.... I'm sorry Mr. Hartley is not in. Usually he _is_ in at this hour, but to-night he is dining out. I know he will be sorry to have missed you, for I am sure he wants to thank you in person for the lovely flowers. Yes, he told me all about it and we both appreciated your sweetness in sending them. I hope Mr. Hartley wrote and properly thanked you,"--I rattled on, hoping to give her time to recover herself. "He is, as a rule, quite punctilious in these matters, but with the holidays and the extra matinées--" I finished with an expressive shrug. There was a disheartening silence.
"I think I must be going," she faltered at last, waiting for me to rise. "I'm afraid I've kept you too long.... You've been very kind.... I hope you haven't been shocked by ... by ... the unconventional way I...." Her speech came in jerks.
"Not at all," I answered, jumping in and anticipating my cue. "Not at all!" I reiterated, injecting more warmth in the confirmation than I intended. I walked with her to the elevator. "I'm sorry it is so late or I would ask you to stop for a cup of tea. But you will come again, won't you?--perhaps you'll telephone me one morning--not _too_ early----" I laughed a little as I pressed the button--"we're not early risers, and we'll arrange a time when Mr. Hartley can be with us. I want you to meet the boy--O, yes, we've got a baby, too! Of course, _we_ think him the most wonderful baby in the world. Aren't parents a conceited lot?" ... I pressed her limp hand and smiled good-byes as the lift bore her out of sight.
Then the smile went out of me. I felt angry with myself: I felt I had overdone it. What was the woman to me that I should exert myself to put her at ease with herself? She was but one of the silly creatures who "chase" the actor and pander to his vanity. I regretted the impulse which prompted me to ask her to tea. Truly, I had made a fool of myself.... At least, I had prevented her from making a farther fool of herself--and of me....
I went to my room but did not turn on the light for fear of attracting Experience, whose room was across the court. She was probably waiting for me. I wanted to be alone. I removed the violets from my coat. My first impulse was to throw them out the window; then I thought better of it--and of her. They represented a woman's illusions--no, two women's illusions.... Will had deliberately fooled me; even Miss Merdell, the tall good-looker, knew he was fooling me. That was what she meant when she chaffed him about the violets at the Christmas party. Perhaps it was not of great consequence, but, does a woman ever forgive a man for wounding her self-respect?...