Lana dear, why don't you come here and sit down and confide
in a friend and assure her that you're safe and sane from now on?"
Miss Corson, as if suddenly made aware that somebody in the room was
talking, snapped herself 'bout face.
"Doris, what are you saying to me?"
"I'm giving you a little soothing dissertation on love--the right kind of
love--the sensible kind--"
"How do you dare to annoy me with such silliness in a time like this?"
"Why, because this is just the right moment for you to tell me that you
are forever done with the silly kind of love. Mushy boy-and-girl love is
wholly made up of illusions. This Morrison man isn't leaving you any
illusions in regard to himself, is he?"
Miss Corson came away from the window with a rush; her cheeks were
danger-flags. "You seem to be absolutely determined to drive me to say
something dreadful to you, Doris! I've been trying so hard to remember
that you're my guest."
"Your friend, you mean!"
"You listen to me! I'm making my own declarations to myself about the men
in this world--the ones I know. If I should say out loud what I think of
them--or if I should say what I think of friends who meddle and maunder on
about love--_love_--I'd be ashamed if I were overheard.
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