Miss Wynn continued to smile.
“We’re all talking of it all the time,” she said.
He looked incredulous.
“Yes, we are,” she insisted. “We veil it a little, and laugh as lightly as we can; but there is only one thought in this room, and that’s grave and serious enough to suit even you, and quite your daily topic.”
“But I don’t understand.”
‚ÄúAh, there‚Äôs the rub. You haven‚Äôt learned our language yet. We don‚Äôt just blurt into the Negro Problem; that‚Äôs voted bad form. We leave that to our white friends. We saunter to it sideways, touch it delicately because‚Äù‚ÅÝ‚Äîher face became a little graver‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äúbecause, you see, it hurts.‚Äù
Bles stood thoughtful and abashed.
‚ÄúI‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI think I understand,‚Äù he gravely said at last.
“Come here,” she said with a sudden turn, and they joined an absorbed group in the midst of a conversation.
‚Äú‚ÅÝ‚ÄîThinking of sending Jessie to Bryn Mawr,‚Äù Bles heard Miss Jones saying.
“Could she pass?”
“Oh, they might think her Spanish.”
“But it’s a snobbish place and she would have to give up all her friends.”