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She began to find excuses for him. Men were always a child-like prey
to some women. They were vain, and especially they were sex-vain; good
looking men were a target for every sort of advance. She transferred her
loathing of him to the woman she suspected of luring him away from her,
and lay for hours hating her.
She saw Leslie off in the morning with a perfunctory good-bye while cold
anger and suspicion seethed in her. And later she put on her hat and
went home to lay the situation before her mother. Mrs. Wheeler was out,
however, and she found only Elizabeth sewing by her window.
Nina threw her hat on the bed and sat down dispiritedly.
"I suppose there's no news?" she asked.
Nina watched her. She was out of patience with Elizabeth, exasperated
with the world.
"Are you going to go on like this all your life?" she demanded. "Sitting
by a window, waiting? For a man who ran away from you?"
"That's not true, and you know it."
"They're all alike," Nina declared recklessly. "They go along well
enough, and they are all for virtue and for the home and fireside stuff,
until some woman comes their way. I ought to know."
Elizabeth looked up quickly.
"Why, Nina!" she said. "You don't mean--"
"He went to New York this morning. He pretended to be going on business,
but he's actually gone to see that actress. He's been mad about her for
months."
"I don't believe it."
"Oh, wake up," Nina said impatiently. "The world isn't made up of
good, kind, virtuous people. It's rotten. And men are all alike. Dick
Livingstone and Les and all the rest--tarred with the same stick. As
long as there are women like this Carlysle creature they'll fall for
them. And you and I can sit at home and chew our nails and plan to keep
them by us. And we can't do it."
In spite of herself a little question of doubt crept that day into
Elizabeth's mind. She had always known that they had not told her all
the truth; that the benevolent conspiracy to protect Dick extended even
to her. But she had never thought that it might include a woman. Once
there, the very humility of her love for Dick was an element in favor of
the idea. She had never been good enough, or wise or clever enough, for
him. She was too small and unimportant to be really vital.