"If you do," said Mrs. Symes, unrolling her arms, white and wrinkled with washing, to set them aggressively on her lips, "it's the last word as passes between us, Mrs. James, so now you know."
"Lord, Maria, don't fly out at me that way." Mrs. James shrank back: "How was I to know you'd take it like that?"
"Do you suppose," asked Mrs. Symes, "as no one ain't got no legs except you? I'm a going up, soon as I've got the things on the line and cleaned myself. I only heard it after I'd got every blessed rag in soak, or I'd a gone up afore."
"Mightn't I step up with you for company?" Mrs. James asked.
"No, you mightn't. But I don't mind dropping in as I come home, to tell you about it. One of them Catholic Nunnery schools, I expect, which it's sudden death to a man but to set his foot into."
"Poor young thing," said Mrs. James again.
* * * * * Betty was going to Paris.
There had been "much talk about and about" the project. Now it was to be.
There had been interviews.
There was the first in which the elder Miss Desmond told her brother-in-law in the plain speech she loved exactly what sort of a fool he had made of himself in the matter of Betty and the fortune-telling.
When he was convinced of error--it was not easily done--he would have liked to tell Betty that he was sorry, but he belonged to a generation that does not apologise to the next.
The second interview was between the aunt and Betty. That was the one in which so much good advice was given.
"You know," the aunt wound up, "all young women want to be in love, and all young men too. I don't mean that there was anything of that sort between you and your artist friend. But there might have been. Now look here,--I'm going to speak quite straight to you. Don't you ever let young men get monkeying about with your hands; whether they call it fortune-telling or whether they don't, their reason for doing so is always the same--or likely to be. And you want to keep your hand--as well as your lips--for the man you're going to marry. That's all, but don't you forget it. Now what's this I hear about your wanting to go to Paris?"
"I did want to go," said Betty, "but I don't care about anything now. Everything's hateful."