So she sat there swaying this way and that, and then the door opened and her mother came in. Mrs. Quixano, we know, was not pleased at heart, but she had become very anxious for the marriage.
Judith listened passively as the advantages of her future position were laid before her.
Then she made her protest, fully conscious of its weakness.
“I do not like Mr. Lee-Harrison.”
“Of course not,” said Mrs. Quixano. “I should be sorry to hear that you did. No girl likes her intended—at first.”
Judith bowed her head, conscious, ashamed.
Only that afternoon Rose had said to her:
“We all have to marry the men we don’t care for. I shall, I know, although I have a lot of money. I am not sure that it is not best in the end.”
And she sighed, as a red-headed, cousinly vision rose before her mental sight.
“You are coming home with me,” went on Mrs. Quixano, “then we can talk it over comfortably. You mustn’t keep the poor man waiting much longer.”