"No," said he, "but you and Miss Julia both will be paid back—the money part of it—some time. As for me, I'm not going to have any home."
She sat silent for quite a time, the meager breakfast now being ended for both.
"Oh, can't you forget her, Don? Can't you give her up?" she said finally.
"I can't forget her, Mother, but I'll have to give her up. It all happened there on the car—just at once—in public."
"I'm glad you never kissed her, Don," said she. "You're both so young."
She shook her head slowly as she went on. "Love has to be loved in any case. That means—I suppose it means—that for the very young, if it be not one, it may later be another."
He only smiled bitterly at this. "It all comes to the same thing in any case," said he. "I'll have to tell her what I know, and we'll have to part. It would be the same with any other woman, if there could be any other. There can't be."
"I've been frank with you, Don, and I don't know whether to be glad or sorry for that. I'd love nothing so much in the world as to see you happily married—but nothing in the world could so much hurt me as to see you marry Anne Oglesby."
"No fear of it!"
"You'll tell her?"