We've got to go."
"_I_ sha'n't go."
He looked at her from under his heavy eyelids; then blew two smoke
wreaths slowly. "You're a queer creature."
She turned on him hotly. "Queer? Because I won't go out to supper with
you? I'd be queer if I did! I'm entirely satisfied with myself, Lloyd;
I consider that I have a perfect right to be happy in my own way. You
know I don't care a copper for what you call 'morality'! it's nothing
but cowardly conventionality. But I won't go out to supper with you."
"Please don't let us have a tirade," he said "I thought it would be
more convenient for you. That's always the way with your sex, Helena,
you do a thing to help them out, and they burst into tears."
"I haven't burst into tears," she said sullenly, "but I won't go."
"Come, now! don't be a goose. I wouldn't make a practice of accepting
their invitations; but for once, what does it matter?"
"Can't you understand?" she said passionately; "_they are kind to
me!_"
She turned quickly and ran into the garden, leaving him to call after
her: "Well, you've got to go to-night, because I've accepted."
"I won't go to-night!" she flung back, her voice breaking.
Lloyd Pryor shook his head. "And she wonders I don't come oftener," he
said to himself.
So the sleepy Sunday morning passed. Mr. Pryor roamed about the
garden, looking furtively over his shoulder now and then--but Helena
had disappeared.
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