She thought
of Mr. and Mrs. Todd and the old dream glowed faintly again.
Cresswell looked at her as she entered the library where he was waiting
and smoking. She was rumpled and muddy, with flying hair and thick
walking shoes and the air of bustle and vigor which had crept into her
blood this last month. Truly, her cheeks were glowing and her eyes
bright, but he disapproved. Softness and daintiness, silk and lace and
glimmering flesh, belonged to women in his mind, and he despised Amazons
and "business" women. He received her kiss coldly, and Mary's heart
sank. She essayed some gay greeting, but he interrupted her.
"What's this stuff about the Civic Club?" he began sharply.
"Stuff?" she queried, blankly.
"That's what I said."
"I'm sure I don't know," she answered stiffly. "I belong to the Civic
Club, and have been working with it."
"Why didn't you tell me?" His resentment grew as he proceeded.
"I did not think you were interested."
"Didn't you know that this Child Labor business was opposed to my
interests?"
"Dear, I did not dream it. It's a Republican bill, to be sure; but you
seemed very friendly with Senator Smith, who introduced it. We were
simply trying to improve it."
"Suppose we didn't want it improved."
"That's what some said; but I did not believe such--deception."
The blood rushed to Cresswell's face.
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