Her mother hardly needed one, "Has he met another woman, Hilda ?" she demanded.
"I don't know; he doesn't say so," said Hilda miserably.

"But anyhow, I don't see that that matters." "Not matter, girl! Are you mad too?
He is your fiance, isn't he?
Really, I think I must speak to your father." Hilda turned her head slowly, and mother and daughter looked at each other.

Mrs.Lessing was a woman of the world, but she was a good mother, and she read in her daughter's eyes what every mother has to read sooner or later.

It was as one woman to another, and not as mother to daughter, that she continued lamely: "Well, Hilda, what do you make of it all?
What are you going to do ?" The girl looked away again, and a silence fell between them.

Then she said, speaking in short, slow sentences: "I will tell you what I make of it, mother.