“Dear,” said her mother, “you must tell me.”
Edith motioned Mr. Arrelsford away. He went with ill-concealed impatience to the far side of the room and waited nervously to give the signal, anxious lest something should miscarry because of this unfortunate unwillingness of the girl to play her part.
“What is it, dear?” whispered her mother.
“Mamma,” said Edith, she forced the words out, “he—he—loves me.”
“Impossible!” returned Mrs. Varney, controlling her voice so that the other occupant of the room could not hear.
“Yes,” faltered the girl, “and I—some one else must do it.”
“You don’t mean,” said Mrs. Varney, “that you return——”
But Mr. Arrelsford’s patience had been strained to the breaking point. He did not know what interchange was going on between the two women, but it must be stopped. He came forward resolutely. The girl saw his determination in his face.
“No, no,” she whispered, “not that, not now!”
She shrank away from him as she spoke.