"I think your language is terrible, Christina! I ought to know you would defend this perfectly awful girl. You take a very lax view, Chris, it is a good thing I have a well-balanced mind--" "You haven't," said Christina. "It isn't a month ago that you were sneering about marriage. I believe in marriage: I'm old-fashioned. Marriage is a wonderful bridge; it carries you over the time when, if you're not married, you are getting used to a strange man and comparing him unfavorably with your last. Besides, it is easier to divorce a man than to run away from him. Divorce is so easy that there is no excuse for remaining single." "I don't know whether you're being decent or not, Christina. But there are some people who have never married all their lives, and they've been _perfectly_ happy--of course, I can't tell you who they are, it is absurd to ask me. Only I know that there have been such people--in history, I mean. I believe in marriage, but it is much worse to be married to somebody you don't love than to be living with a man you do love." "There are times when you remind me of 'Uncle Tom's Cabin'," mused Christina. "I wonder why--oh, yes, little Eva who said such damnably true things so very truly. She died. The book had to have a happy ending anyway. Eva--Evie, I mean, I should write to your slave master and demand an explanation. I'll bet you won't, though!" "Won't I?" Evie stiffened. "I have my self-respect to consider, Christina, and my friends. I hope Teddy hasn't read the case." She wrote a letter, many words of which were underlined, and notes of exclamation stood up on each page like the masts of docked shipping. Ronnie's answer was waiting for her next night. "Will you come to the flat, Evie?" Evie did not consult her sister; she took a lank young man into her confidence. Would he escort her and wait in the vestibule of the flats until she came out? Evie had discovered the need for a chaperon. IX François opened the door, and Evie walked hesitatingly into the lobby. Ronnie was at his table and he was writing. He got up at once and came to meet her with outstretched hand. "It was good of you to come, Evie." She started. His voice was so changed--his expression, too. Something had come into his face that was not there before. A vitality, an eagerness, a good humor. She was startled into beginning on a personal note. "Why, Ronnie, dear, you have changed!" She did not recognize how far she had departed from a certain program and agenda she had drawn up. Item number one was "not to call Ronnie, 'dear'." "Have I?" He flashed a smile at her as he pushed a chair forward and put a cushion at her back. "Your voice even, have you had a cold?" "No. I am getting old," he chuckled at the jest. Ronnie did not as a rule laugh at himself. "I had your letter about Lola. I thought it best that you should come. Yes, Evie, all that was in the paper was true. I know Lola."