"That is likely!" cried Marion, laughing. "Don't, Helen! I would not tell a story to oblige Claire, if I were you."
But Helen had apparently little idea of telling the story. Even in the dusk, the flush that overspread her face was visible, and the lids drooped over the violet eyes.
"At all events, we will not talk of him," said Claire, decidedly. "We will talk of ourselves and our own futures. We are standing on the threshold of a new life, and surely we may spare a little time in wondering how it will fare with us. Marion, what do you say?"
"If one may judge the future by the past, I should say, so far as I am concerned, badly enough," Marion replied. "But whether I alter matters for better or for worse, I don't mean to go on in the same old way; I shall change the road, if I don't mend it."
"Change it in what manner?"
"I don't know exactly. Circumstances will have to decide that for me. But I don't mean to go back to my uncle's, to share the family economics, and hear the family complaints, and wear Adela's old dresses; you may be sure of that, Claire!"
"But how can you avoid it," asked Claire, "when you have just said that you will not disregard your uncle's wishes by attempting to support yourself?"
"I shall not do anything to hurt the Lynde pride," answered the girl, mockingly. "I shall only take my gifts of body and mind into the world, and see what I can make of them."
"Make of them!" repeated Helen. "In what way?"
"There is only one way that I care about," returned the other, carelessly: "the way of a fortune."