She wants to make a
copy of it. I told her I'd ask you.''
``Certainly,'' said Mildred.
``She says she'll return it the same day.''
``Tell her she can keep it as long as she likes.''
Mrs. Belloc eyed her gravely, started to speak,
checked herself. Instead, she said, ``No, I shan't do
that. I'll have it back in your room by this evening.
You might change your mind, and want to use it.''
``Very well,'' said Mildred, pointedly uninterested and
ignoring Mrs. Belloc's delicate but distinct emphasis
upon ``might.''
Mrs. Belloc kept a suspicious eye upon her--an eye
that was not easily deceived. The more she thought
about Mildred's state of depression and disdain the more
tolerant she became. That mood was the natural and
necessary result of the girl's bringing up and mode of
life. The important thing--and the wonderful thing
--was her being able to overcome it. After a week of
rehearsal she said: ``I'm making the best of it. But
I don't like it, and never shall.''
``I should hope not,'' replied Mrs.
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