I took the hand she held toward me in both of mine and something in
her eyes, something both mutinous and pleading, filled me with
sympathy I should not have felt, perhaps. She was only nineteen, and
her mother was obviously trying to make her marry Harrie when she
probably loved Tom. It was all so weak and so wicked, so sordid and
stupid, that I felt like Kitty when with Alice Herbert. I needed
disinfecting. I would have to get away before I said things I
shouldn't.

"Your mother says the masseuse comes this afternoon. Can't you take
a drive with me while she is here?" I turned to Mrs. Swink. "You
will not mind if she leaves you for a little while? It is too lovely
to stay indoors."

"No, indeed, I won't mind. I'll be glad to have her go if she'll do
it. Lately she won't do anything but sit at that window." Mrs.
Swink, who had gotten out of her chair with difficulty, turned to her
daughter, blinking her little, near-sighted eyes at her as if she
were beyond all human understanding; and the fretfulness of her tone
she made no effort to control. "She's that restless and hard to
please and hard to interest in anything that she nearly wears me out.
Girls didn't do like that when I was young. If I'd had a hundredth
part of what she's got--"

"What's the use of having things you don't want?" Miss Swink's
shoulders made resentful movement; then she turned to me, for a
moment hesitated.

"Thank you very much for asking me, but I can't go this afternoon. I