Harding made no reply.
Mildred was beside herself with a kind of rage that, because outlet was
necessary and because raving against the little general would be
absolutely futile, found outlet in self-mockery and reckless sarcasm.
"I understand about the jewels, too," she went on. "They are not mine.
Nothing is mine. Everything, including myself, belongs to him. If I
give satisfaction in the position for which I've been hired for my
board and clothes, I may continue to eat the general's food and sleep
in the general's house and wear the general's jewels and dresses and
ride in the general's traps and be waited on by the general's servants.
If I don't like my place or he doesn't like my way of filling it"--she
laughed merrily, mockingly--"out I go--into the streets--after the
second Mrs. Siddall. And the general will hire a new--" She paused,
cast about for a word in vain, appealed to the secretary, "What would
you call it, Mr. Harding?"
Harding rose, looking at her with a very soothing tranquillity. "If I
were you, Mrs. Siddall," said he, "I should get into the auto and go
for a long drive--out to the Bois--out to Versailles--a long, long
drive. I should be gone four or five hours at least, and I should look
at the thing from all sides. Especially, I'd look at it from HIS
standpoint."
Mildred, somewhat quieter, but still mocking, said: "If I should decide
to quit, would my expenses be paid back to where I was engaged? I
fancy not."
Harding looked grave. "If you had had money enough to pay your own
expenses about, would you have married him?" said he. "Isn't he
paying--paying liberally, Mrs. Siddall--for ALL he gets?"
Mildred, stung, drew herself up haughtily, gave him a look that
reminded him who she was and who he was. But Harding was not impressed.
"You said a moment ago--truly--that we are all in the same boat,"
observed he. "I put those questions to you because I honestly wish to
help you--because I wish you not to act foolishly, hastily."
"Thank you, Mr. Harding," said Mildred coldly. And with a slight nod
she went, angry and ashamed that she had so unaccountably opened up her
secret soul, bared its ugly wounds, before a man she knew so slightly,
a man in a position but one remove from menial. However, she took his
advice--not as to trying to view the matter from all sides, for she was
convinced that there was only the one side, but as to calming herself
by a long drive alone in the woods and along quiet roads. When she
returned she was under control once more.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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