"
"Oh--deserved!" repeated Stoddard, almost impatiently. "No doubt you
deserve a great deal more than my praise; but you know--do you
not?--that people who believe as I do, regard that sort of philanthropy
as a barrier to progress; and, really now, I think you ought to admit
that under such circumstances I have behaved with great friendliness and
self-control."
The words were spoken with something of the old teasing intonation that
had once deluded Lydia Sessions into the faith that she held a relation
of some intimacy to this man. She glanced at him fleetingly; then,
though she felt utterly at sea, made one more desperate effort.
"But I always went first to you when I was raising money for my Uplift
work, and you gave to me more liberally than anybody else. Jerome never
approved of it. Hartley grumbled, or laughed at me, and came reluctantly
to my little dances and receptions. I sometimes felt that I was going
against all my world--except you. I depended upon your approval. I felt
that you were in full sympathy with me here, if nowhere else."
She looked so disproportionately moved by the matter that Stoddard
smiled a little.
"I'm sorry," he said at last. "I see now that I have been taking it for
granted all along that you understood the reservation I held in regard
to this matter."
"You--you should have told me plainly," said Lydia drearily.
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