Mrs. Lessing was impatient again.  “Do you mean, Hilda, that if he persists in this—­this madness, if he gives up the Church, for example, you will not break off the engagement?  Mind you, that is the point.  Every young man must have a bit of a fling, possibly even clergymen, I suppose, and they get over it.  A sensible girl knows that.  But if he ruins his prospects—­surely, Hilda, you are not going to be a fool?”

The word had been spoken again.  Peter had had something to say on it, and now the gods gave Hilda her chance.  She stretched her fine hands out to the fire, and a new note came into her voice.

“A fool, mother?  Oh no, I shan’t be a fool.  A fool would follow him to the end of the world.  A fool of a woman would give him all he wants for the sake of giving, and be content with nothing in return.  I see that.  But I’m not made for that sort of foolery....  No, I shan’t be a fool.”

Mrs. Lessing could not conceal her satisfaction.  “Well, I am sure I am very glad to hear you say it, and so would your father be.  We have not brought you up carefully for nothing, Hilda.  You are a woman now, and I don’t believe in trying to force a woman against her will, but I am heartily glad, my dear, that you are so sensible.  When you are as old as I am and have a daughter of your own, you will be glad that you have behaved so to-night.”

Hilda got up, and put her hands behind her head, which was a favourite posture of hers.  She stood looking down at her mother with a curious expression on her face.  Mrs. Lessing could make nothing of it; she merely thought Hilda “queer”; she had travelled farther than she knew from youth.

“Shall I, mother?” said Hilda.  “Yes, I expect I shall.  I have been carefully brought up, as you say, so carefully that even now I can only just see what a fool might do, and I know quite well that I can’t do it.  After a while I shall no more see it than you do.  I shall even probably forget that I ever did.  So that is all.  And because I love him, really, I don’t think I can even say ‘poor Peter!’ That’s curious, isn’t it, mother?...  Well, I think I’ll go to my room for a little.  I won’t come in again.  Good-night.”

She bent and kissed Mrs. Lessing.  Her mother held her arms a moment more.  “Then, what are you going to do?” she demanded.

Hilda freed herself, “Write and try to persuade him not to be a fool either, I think.  Not that it’s any good.  And then—­wait and see.”  She walked to the floor, “Of course, this is just between us two, isn’t it, dear?” she said, playing with the handle.

“Of course,” said her mother.  “But do be sensible, dear, and don’t wait too long.  It is much better not to play with these things—­much better.  And do tell me how things go, darling, won’t you?”

“Oh yes,” said Hilda slowly, “Oh yes I’ll tell you....  Good-night.”

She passed out and closed the door gently “I wonder why I can’t cry to-night?” she asked herself as she went to her room, and quite honestly she did not know.