She doubted if he would
come. And she would not go--not yet. She must have time to think.
One thing pricked her sorely. She could not reconcile the roguery of
Brooks and Lorimer with the men as she knew them. Not that she doubted
Bill's word. But there must be a mistake somewhere. Ruthless
competition in business she knew and understood. Only the fit
survived--just as in her husband's chosen field only the peculiarly fit
could hope to survive. But she rather resented the idea that pleasant,
well-bred people could be guilty of coarse, forthright fraud. Surely
not!
Altogether, as the first impression of Bill's letter grew less vivid to
her she considered her grievances more. And she was minded to act as
she had set out to do--to live her life as seemed best to her, rather
than pocket her pride and rejoin Bill. The feminine instinct to compel
the man to capitulate asserted itself more and more strongly.
Wherefore, she dressed carefully and prepared to meet a luncheon
engagement which she recalled as being down for that day. No matter
that her head ached woefully. Thought maddened her. She required
distraction, craved change. The chatter over the tea-cups, the
cheerful nonsense of that pleasure-seeking crowd might be a tonic.
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