She winced visibly, and hung her head, considering profoundly.
She found that she had nothing to oppose to the other's arguments.
Mrs. Draper walked beside her in a silence as dexterous as her
exhortation, her hand affectionately thrust through Sylvia's arm.
Finally, Sylvia's ponderings continuing so long that they were
approaching the Marshall house, in sight of which she had no mind to
appear, she gave Sylvia's arm a little pat, and stood still. She said
cheerfully, in a tone which seemed to minimize the whole affair into
the smallest of passing incidents: "Now, you queer darling, don't
stand so in your own light! A word would bring Jerry back to you
now--but I won't say it will always. I don't suppose you've ever
considered, in your young selfishness, how cruelly you have hurt his
feelings! He was awfully sore when I saw him. And Eleanor Hubert is
right on the spot with Mamma Hubert in the background to push."
Sylvia broke her silence to say in a low tone, blushing scarlet, "He
was--_horrid_!"
Mrs. Draper dropped her light tone and said earnestly: "Dear little
ignorant Sylvia--you don't recognize life when you see it. That's the
way men are--all men--and there's no use thinking it horrid unless
you're going into a convent. It's not so bad either,--once you get the
hang of managing it--it's a hold on them. It's a force, like any other
force of nature that you can either rebel against, or turn to your
account and make serviceable, if you'll only accept it and not try to
quarrel with water for running downhill.
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