"
"Where was he going?" I sat down in the big wing-chair and the
fingers of my hands interlaced. "Did he say where he was going?"
"He didn't mention the place, just said he had to go away and might
be gone some time. He'll write, I reckon. He was awful disappointed
at not seeing you. He asked me--" Mrs. Mundy, on her knees,
unbuttoned my shoes and drew them off. "Your feet are near 'bout
frozen, and no wonder. Your stockings are wet clean through, and I'm
letting you sit here in them when I promised him I'd see you didn't
kill yourself doing these very things. You just put your feet on the
fender while I get some dry clothes. He says to me, says he: 'Mrs.
Mundy, the one human being she gives no thought to is herself, and
will you please take care of her? She don't understand'"--
"Oh, I do understand!" My voice was wearily protesting. "The one
thing men don't want women to do is to understand. They want us to
be sweet and pretty--and not understand. Selwyn talks as if I were a
child. I am perfectly able to take care of myself."
"Maybe you are, but you don't do it--least-ways, not always.
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