nd I don't think she has any right to try to make
me. I don't want to and I won't. I think it is all in rather poor
taste."

"Poor taste, Suzanne?" asked Mrs. Dale. "Do you call our discussion of
what you want to do poor taste, when the world will think that what you
want to do is terrible when you do it?"

"I told you, mama, that I was not coming down here to discuss this
thing, and I'm not!" said Suzanne, turning to her mother and ignoring
Dr. Woolley. "I'm not going to stay. I don't want to offend Dr. Woolley,
but I'm not going to stay and have you argue this all over again."

She turned to go.

"There, there, Mrs. Dale, don't interrupt," observed Dr. Woolley,
holding Suzanne by the very tone of his voice. "I think myself that very
little is to be gained by argument. Suzanne is convinced that what she
is planning to do is to her best interest. It may be. We can't always
tell. I think the best thing that could be discussed, if anything at all
in this matter can be discussed, is the matter of time. It is my opinion
that before doing this thing that Suzanne wants to do, and which may be
all right, for all I know, it would be best if she would take a little
time. I know nothing of Mr. Witla. He may be a most able and worthy man.
Suzanne ought to give herself a little time to think, though. I should
say three months, or six months. A great many after effects hang on this
decision, as you know," he said, turning to Suzanne. "It may involve
responsibilities you are not quite ready to shoulder. You are only
eighteen or nineteen, you know. You might have to give up dancing and
society, and travel, and a great many things, and devote yourself to
being a mother and ministering to your husband's needs. You expect to
live with him permanently, don't you?"

"I don't want to discuss this, Dr. Woolley."

"But you do expect that, don't you?"

"Only as long as we love each other."

"Um, well, you might love him for some little time yet. You rather
expect to do that, don't you?"

"Why, yes, but what is the good of this, anyhow? My mind is made up."

"Just the matter of thinking," said Dr. Woolley, very soothingly and in
a voice which disarmed Suzanne and held her. "Just a little time in
which to be absolutely sure. Your mother is anxious not to have you do
it at all. You, as I understand it, want to do this thing right away.
Your mother loves you, and at bottom, in spite of this little
difference, I know you love her. It ju