' I should not ever have liked him.'
' I don't know what to say to you,' said Judy, really perplexed. ' What you tell me is so unlike you.'
' I know it is. I have changed, I suppose. I think America changed me. What has happened? Is it that I have become hard or that I have learned common-sense? What I cannot make out is whether I would sooner have learned this or not. If I had not learned it, I should be now engaged to him; but, knowing it, shall I marry him?'
' Have you seen him since?'
' No. He has behaved very typically, very cleverly. He neither tried to see me again nor wrote to me. He has very quick perceptions, I am sure. I am sure he reasoned it out with himself, and came to the conclusion that it was better not to approach me in any way for a time. He was quite right; if he had tried to explain things away, or had even assured me that there was nothing to explain, I should have had nothing more to say to him. I should have told him that he and all that concerned him was a matter of absolute indifference to me. He has been wise: he simply effaced himself, and he has therefore made me think about him.'
Sybil paused in front of the looking-glass, and smoothed her hair with an absent hand. Then she turned round again.
' You will see,' she said. ' He will follow me to England. I don't think you like him, Judy,' she added.
' My approbation is not necessary to you.'
' Not in the least; but why don't you?'
' Because I am old-fashioned—because we belong to totally different generations, you and I. I don't like motor-cars, either, you see; and a person's feeling for motor-cars is a very good criterion as to the generation to which he belongs.'
