Ave could not imagine why Tom May, of all people in the world, should thrust himself into the discussion of her plans; but she could only submit to listen, or more truly to lean back with wandering thoughts and mechanical signs of assent, as he urged his numerous objections. Finally, she uttered a meek 'Thank you,' in the trust that it was over.
'And will you try to make your brother consider these things?'
Poor Ave could not have stood an examination on 'these things,' and feeling inadequate to undertake the subject, merely said something of 'very kind, but she feared it would be of no use.'
'I assure you, if you would persuade him to talk it over with me, that I could show him that he would involve you all in what would be most distasteful.'
'Thank you, but his mind is made up. No other course is open.'
'Could he not, at least, go and see what he thinks of it, before taking you and your sisters?'
'Impossible!' said Averil. 'We must all keep together; we have no one else.'
'No, indeed, you must not say that,' cried Tom, with a fire that startled Averil in the midst of her languid, dreary indifference.
'I did not mean,' she said, 'to be ungrateful for the kindness of your family—the Doctor and dear Mary, above all; but you must know-'
'I know,' he interrupted, 'that I cannot see you exiling yourself with your brother, because you think you have no one else to turn to—you, who are so infinitely dear—'