She drew back her head, straightening the white column of her neck, while her hands held his shoulders. "Ah, I would die for you!" she said.
Mrs. Delane was a woman of penetration. Though Janet told her nothing of what had occurred,—for she and Dale agreed to let the matter remain a secret till the impending festivities were over,—yet Mrs. Delane saw something in her daughter's air which made her, that same evening, express to the Squire her doleful conviction that the worst had happened.
"I shall say nothing to Janet," she said, "till she speaks to me. I can trust her absolutely. But I am afraid of it, George. Poor Gerard Ripley!"
"My dear, I'm not going to break my heart about Gerard Ripley. I think more of Jan."
"Well, of course, so do I. And I don't at all like it. He's not—well, not our sort, as the young people say."
"Mary, you're talking slang. What's the matter with him? The match will make Jan famous."
"Well, well, I don't like it, but you must have your way."
"It's not my way. It's Jan's way. Is she fond of him?"
"Terribly, I'm afraid, poor child!"