“Oh, he told me yesterday that he’d come if I could persuade you.  He didn’t have the good manners to leave me in doubt as to what the attraction for him would be.”

Laura’s happy laugh rewarded her.  “This will be the first summer he’s spent in America for ten years,” she replied, “so I hope he’ll find me worth the sacrifice of Europe.”

“Then he’s really given up his trip abroad for you?”

“There’s hardly need to ask that—­but don’t you think it a quite sufficient reason?”

“Oh, I guess so,” returned Gerty carelessly.  “Once I’d have been quite positive about it, but that was in the days when I was a fool.  Now I’m not honestly sure that you’re doing wisely to let him stay.  A man is perfectly capable of making a sacrifice for a woman in the heat of emotion, but there are nine chances to one that he never forgives her for it afterward.  Take my advice, my dear, and simply make him go—­shove the boat off yourself if there’s no other way.  He’ll probably love you ten times more while he’s missing you than he will be able to do through a long hot summer at your side.”

“Gerty, Gerty, how little you know love!” said Laura.

“My dear, I never pretended to.  I’ve given my undivided time and attention to men.”

“Well, he doesn’t want in the least to go—­he’ll tell you so himself when you see him—­but I do wish that your views of life weren’t quite so awful.”

Gerty was still critically regarding her appearance in the mirror, and before answering she ran her hand lightly over the exquisite curve of her hip in her velvet gown.

“I’m sorry they strike you that way,” she responded amiably, “because they are probably what your own will be five years from now.  Then I may positively count on you both for July?” she asked without the slightest change in her flippant tone, “and I’ll try to decoy Billy Lancaster for August.  He’s still young enough to find the virgin forest congenial company.”

“But I thought Perry hated him!” exclaimed Laura, in surprise.

“He does—­perfectly—­but I can’t see that you’ve made an argument out of that.  Billy’s really very handsome—­I wish you knew him—­he’s one of the few men of my acquaintance who has any hair left on the top of his head.”

Her flippancy, her shallowness left Laura for a minute in doubt as to how she should accept her words.  Then rising from her chair, she laid her restraining hands on Gerty’s shoulders.

“My darling, do be careful,” she entreated.

The shoulders beneath her hands rose in an indifferent shrug.  “Oh, I’ve been careful,” laughed Gerty, “but it isn’t any fun.  Perry isn’t careful and he gets a great deal more out of life than I do.”

“A great deal more of what?” demanded Laura.

For an instant Gerty thought attentively, while the mocking gayety changed to a serious hardness upon her face.

“More forgetfulness,” she answered presently.  “That’s what we all want isn’t it?  Call it by what name you will—­religion, dissipation, morphia—­what we are all trying to do is to intoxicate ourselves into forgetting that life is life.”