It had been Stella’s intention to keep up her masquerade with Ed Munn to the end of the month (she did admire a good sport), but, my goodness, she wasn’t a Sarah Bernhardt. Ed got terribly insistent that day she let her mind trail off to Laurel. She simply had to come out with the truth.

“I’m sorry, Ed,” she sighed, as she drew away her hand with a little jerk.

At that he simply imprisoned one of her feet under the table between two of his, and leaned toward her, his eyes still gobbling her up.

She drew away her foot, too, and perched it safely on the rung of her chair.

“Nothing doing, Ed,” she shrugged.

“What’s the matter?” he inquired. She hadn’t shown squeamishness before. “What’s got into you all of a sudden?”

“I guess it’s age, Ed,” she confessed, “and it isn’t all of a sudden.”

He merely laughed at that and tried to grasp her hand again. But she wouldn’t let him. He frowned. Flushed a little.

“I don’t wonder you’re mad, Ed.”

“I didn’t say I was mad.”

“But you aren’t pleased, I guess. I know. Ed, listen. I don’t blame you a bit. I’m disgusted myself with the way I act, with the way I feel, or the way I don’t feel. But don’t, please, think it’s anything personal. There’s no man living could get me really going now. It isn’t your fault. It’s Lollie’s. It’s that darned little Lollie’s fault!” she brought out fiercely. “I’m no good for anything any more except to be her mother. I’m so crazy about Lollie that she uses up all the emotion I’ve got, so I’m just sort of dead ashes with everybody else in the world.”

“You’re alive enough for me.”

But Stella was deaf to flattery now. “Ed,” she exclaimed, “I simply worship Laurel!” And the expression that forced its way through the make-up on her face had something sublime about it. A tear splashed down her cheeks. “You see!” She shrugged and shamelessly began to wipe her eyes. “Oh, it makes me so mad!”

Ed Munn leaned over and patted her on the arm, big-brother fashion.

“That’s all right. That’s all right.”

Stella blew her nose. “I’m terribly sorry.”

“You needn’t be. I’m satisfied. I’m not asking you to get excited over me. I like a woman all the better for being fond of her own kid.”

“Oh, Ed, you are nice!” She warmed toward him.

“In fact,” he went on (he knew now what tack to pursue), “the few times I’ve seen the offspring I’ve thought to myself, what a peach of a kid she was.”

“Oh, she’s wonderful, Ed. I’d die without her!” And again the tears welled up in her eyes.