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When it had subsided,
Harriet's first words proved it.
[Illustration: "What earthly thing does it matter whose fault it is?"]
"All right," she observed. "I knew you'd want to say that. Now, it's off
your mind. Appearances do matter to Freddy and me, and of course they
matter to you too, though you don't like to think so. They matter to all
our kind of people. We're supposed to have been trained to take our
medicine without making faces. If we've got cuts and sores and bruises,
we cover them. We don't parade them as a bid for sympathy. We leave
howling about rights and wrongs and soul-mates and affinities and
'ideals,' to the shabby sort of people who like to do that shabby sort
of thing. According to our traditions, the decent thing to do is to shut
up and keep your face and make it possible for other people to keep
theirs. You're as strong for that as I am, really, Rod, and that's why I
want you to back me up in the line I took with Constance. Pretend you've
known all about what Rose was doing, and that you aren't ashamed of it.


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