"Ah!" he interrupted her.

Her usually orderly mind grew confused; it eddied as though with the
sound of the piano. "It is not marriage," she vaguely repeated her
mother's instruction. Reynold Chase supported her.

"That destroys it," he asserted. "This love is as different as
possible from the ignominious impulse eternally tying the young into
knots. It's anti-social."

"How stupid you are, Reynold," Pansy protested. "If you want to use
those complicated words take Judith into the drawing-room. I'm sure
Linda is dizzy, too."

The latter's mental confusion lingered; she had a strong sense of
having heard Reynold Chase say these strange things long before.
Judith left the piano, sat beside him, and he lightly kissed her. A
new dislike of Judith Feldt deepened in Linda's being. She had no
reason for it, but suddenly she felt absolutely opposed to her. The
manner in which Judith rested against the man by her was very
distasteful. It offended Linda inexplicably; she wanted to draw into
an infinity of distance from all contact with men and life.

She didn't even want to make one of those marriages that had nothing
to do with love, but was only a sensible arrangement for the
securing of gowns and velvet hangings and the luxury of enclosed
automobiles. Suddenly she felt lonely, and hoped that her mother
would come back soon.