'Lottie's quite a good little girl, you know, but she's so
young--barely twenty--and she can't cook or sew or housekeep or do any
of those things which my mother approves. But she dances wonderfully
and kicks higher than anyone else in the chorus----'

'And you want me to make your mother appreciate the . . . the . . .
high kicks?' broke in Marion rather bitterly.

'Well, not exactly, but you know what mothers are--about the stage, I
mean. So don't you understand that if some sensible little woman like
you were to speak to her about it, she might reconstruct her views----'

He paused, staring in a puzzled way at Marion. Beneath her gentle
exterior she has a decided temper which she is apt to deplore and, she
affirms, must instantly be held in check. This, however, was an
occasion when she did not seem to think the check action need be
applied. She faced George with flashing eyes.

'If you were anything of a man,' she declared, 'you would manage an
affair like that alone without asking help from your woman friends.
Good evening.'

'Good evening,' responded George, not, I suppose, at the moment
thinking of anything more original to say. He departed in a pensive
mood.

'And that,' said Marion, concluding the narrative, 'is all there is to
be told.'

She sat before me with her eyes downcast, her lips quivering, and a