Canning sat back in the care with an Early Christian expression.  She had said, not five minutes ago, that she felt perfectly well; perfectly well she looked.  Was it imaginable that she really took seriously the absurd little smatterings of new-womanism she had picked up, God knew where, while waiting for love to come?...

“Carlisle,” he began, patiently, “I understand your feelings perfectly, of course, and natural enough they are to a girl brought up as you’ve been.  At the same time, I’m not willing to leave you feeling disgusted with your father’s methods of—­”

“Disgusted with papa!” exclaimed Cally, quite indignantly.  But she added, in a much more tempered tone:  “Why, Hugo—­how could you think such a thing?...  I assure you I’m disgusted with nobody on earth but myself.”

At that the annoyed young man gave a light laugh.

“I’m evidently about fifty years before the war, as you say down here.  I can’t understand, to save me, how—­”

“I know it, Hugo.  You never understand how I feel about things, and always assume that I’ll feel the way you want me to.”

Carlisle spoke quietly, almost gently.  Yet Canning’s feeling was like that of a man who, in the dark, steps down from a piazza at a point where steps are not.  The jolt drove some of the blood from his cheek.  But his only reply was to poke his hired driver in the back with his stick and say, distantly:  “Nine hundred and three Washington.”

The hired car rolled swiftly, in sun and wind, toward the House of Heth.  Cobblestones were left behind; the large wheels skimmed the fair asphaltum.  Three city blocks they went with no music of human speech....

“But I didn’t mean to seem rude,” said Cally, in a perfectly natural manner, “and I am really very sorry to—­to change the afternoon’s plans.  I don’t feel quite well, and I think perhaps I ought to rest—­just till dinner-time.  You remember you are dining with us to-night.”

The apology, the pacific, non-controversial tone, unbent the young man instantly.  Small business for the thinking sex to harbor a grudge against an irrational woman’s moment of pique.  Moreover, whatever this woman’s foibles, Hugo Canning chanced to find himself deep in love with her.  He met her advance with only a slight trace of stiffness.  By the time they arrived at the Heth house, mamma’s two young people were chatting along almost as if nothing had happened....

However, back at home, Cally seemed unresponsive to Hugo’s overture in the direction of his lingering awhile in the drawing-room.  It became evident that the afternoon was ruined beyond repair.  He paused but a moment, to see whether any telegrams or telephone calls had been sent up for him from the hotel.

It proved that there was nothing of the sort.  The lover looked relieved.  He wished his lady a refreshing rest, apropos of the evening.  Beneath his feeling that he was an ill-used man, there had risen in Canning the practical thought that he had let this wild sweet thing get too sure of him....