"You 're one of them, I see. But I don't speak of the men. The men were well enough—though they did allow it."
"Allow what, Mrs. Headway?" Waterville was quite in the dark.
She would n't answer at once; her eyes, glittering a little, were fixed upon absent images. "What did you hear about me over there? Don't pretend you heard nothing."
He had heard nothing at all; there had not been a word about Mrs. Headway in New York. He could n't pretend, and he was obliged to tell her this. "But I have been away," he added, "and in America I did n't go out. There 's nothing to go out for in New York—only little boys and girls."
"There are plenty of old women! They decided I was improper. I 'm very well known in the West—I 'm known from Chicago to San Francisco—if not personally (in all cases), at least by reputation. People can tell you out there. In New York they decided I was n't good enough. Not good enough for New York! What do you say to that?" And she gave a sweet little laugh. Whether she had struggled with her pride before making this avowal, Waterville never knew. The crudity of the avowal seemed to indicate that she had no pride, and yet there was a spot in her heart which, as he now perceived, was intensely sore and had suddenly begun to throb. "I took a house for the winter—one of the handsomest houses in the place—but I sat
