“You’ve heard?”
She held out her hand pleadingly, afraid that I would judge her. “They’re making me,” she cried, “and I don’t—don’t want to, Dannie.”
I led her away behind the tool-shed at the bottom of the garden; it was the place where I had discovered Hetty in her one flirtation.
“I’m not wanted,” moaned Ruthita; “I cost money. So they’re giving me to a man I don’t love.”
“They shan’t,” I told her, slipping my arm about her. “You shall come to me—I don’t suppose I shall ever marry.”
She nestled her head against my shoulder, saying, “You were always good to me; I don’t know why. I’m not much use to anybody.”
“Rubbish!” I retorted. “None of us could get along without you.”
Then I told her that if the pressure became unbearable she must come to me. She promised.
The Snow Lady found us sitting there together; we made room for her beside us. Shortly after her coming Ruthita made an excuse to vanish.
I turned to the Snow Lady abruptly. “She’s not going to marry Halloway.”