"
Joy moved away from the arm entirely. She felt hurt.
"In other words, you're afraid he'll toy with my young affections?"
she answered flippantly. "Very well--let him try! Goodness knows
he's labeled loudly enough. Every time he comes within a mile
somebody says that about him. Everything about him says it for
itself, for the matter of that. It isn't any secret. Let him toy! It
amuses him and doesn't hurt me."
"If I could be sure it wouldn't hurt you--" said John in a low
voice. "He is very fascinating, Joy."
There was a note of pain in John's voice, but Joy did not heed it.
"_You_ are hurting me!" she said angrily, rising. "How can you----"
She did not finish. She had been going to say, "How can you talk
that way when I belong to you?" but she had not the courage. He
could never know how much she belonged to him. "I very much want to
be in this opera, and I think I shall," she said definitely.
"I have no way of preventing you," he answered coldly.
"But can't you trust me not to be silly?" she asked in a softer
tone. "Oh, John, I'll promise not to let Clarence break my heart. I
promise not to let _anything_ break it. Good-night."
She gathered up her mending-basket, set her chair carefully where it
had belonged, and went slowly out of the room without another word.
She did not know how John would greet her next morning. But he
proved to be no more of a malice-bearing animal than she, and when
she smiled brightly at him over the coffee-cups he smiled back in
quite as friendly a fashion, and they had a very cheerful breakfast
together--so cheerful that John was late getting out on his rounds.
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