"She didn't kiss me when she said good-night!" said Doris suddenly. "She
wasn't the least sentimental--or ashamed--or grateful! Having said what
was necessary, she let it alone. She's a real lady--though rather a
savage. I like her!"
"Who are you talking of? Lady Dunstable? I had forgotten all about her.
All the same, darling, I should like to know what made you do all this
for a woman you _said_ you detested!"
"I did detest her. I shall probably detest her again. Leopards don't
change their spots, do they? But I shan't--fear her any more!"
Something in her tone arrested Meadows's attention.
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, what I say!" cried Doris, drawing herself a little from him, with
a hand on his shoulder. "I shall never fear her, or anyone, any more.
I'm safe! Why did I do it? Do you really want to know? I did
it--because--I was so sorry for her--poor silly woman,--who can't get on
with her own son! Arthur!--if our son doesn't love me better than hers
loves her--you may kill me, dear, and welcome!"
"Doris! There is something in your voice--! What are you hiding from
me?"
* * * * *
But as to the rest of that conversation under the moon, let those
imagine it who may have followed this story with sympathy.
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