She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown. I want to but I cannot! Please accept that!” She yelled. “What of her? Have you quarrelled with her?” The girl shook her head. To fight inertia on the one hand and to study this queer girl on the other. She had been fighting down this thought for days: that Hoddy did not care, that he did not love her, that he had mistaken a vagary of the mind for a substance, and now regretted what he had done— married a girl who was not his equal in anything.
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