"Yes, come in," Alva said quickly; "come in and sit down." She drew a chair near to the one that she had been occupying.
"I have come to you on a—" began the girl, "on a—on a—" she stammered and stopped.
"You are in trouble," Alva said gently; "tell me all about it."
"I am going to tell you; I have come on purpose to tell you. You were so kind and friendly the other day, and I—I—wasn't truthful; I didn't tell you everything."
Alva rested her face on her hand again and looked straight at her. "Then tell me everything now," she said.
Miss Lathbun returned her look. "Mr. O'Neil has just been up to tell Mother that we must pay our bill here, or leave," she said. "Mother is desperate. She doesn't know what to do, and I don't know what to do. I told you so little of the whole story. The truth is that he is actually driving Mother and me into poverty. The truth is that I don't know whether he ever really has thought of marrying me. Mother never has believed that he has. She doesn't think that he would put us to such straits if he was honest. Of course she doesn't know about his watching nights. I can't tell her. She'd go mad."
Alva contemplated her quietly. "But you love him?" she said.
Miss Lathbun's eyes filled with tears. "I do love him, and I believe that he loves me."
"You feel sure of it, don't you?"
The girl looked at her earnestly. "Doesn't one always know?" she asked.