'There's something, father, dear, that I must speak to you about…. Mother thinks I ought to marry Lord Chiselhurst, that I ought to make up to him and catch him if I can. She says that he likes very young girls, and that she could see that he liked me. But, father, I cannot marry him. He is—no, I cannot marry him. I do not like him, I'm only sixteen, and he's forty or fifty. But that isn't the reason, at least not the only reason. I don't want to marry any one, and mother doesn't seem to understand that. She said if that were so, she really didn't see why I left the convent.'
She was too intent on what she was saying to notice the light which flashed in the Major's eyes.
'I said, "Mother, I never wanted to leave the convent, it was you who wanted me home." "No," she said, "it was not I, it was your father. But now that you are here I should like you to make a good marriage." Then she turned and kissed me…. I don't want to say anything against mother; she loves me, I'm sure: but we're so different, I shall never understand mother, I shall never get on in society. I cannot, father, dear, I cannot, I feel so far away; I do not know what to say to the people I meet. I do not feel that I understand them when they speak to me; I am far away, that is what I feel; I shall never get over that feeling; I shall not succeed, and then mother will get to hate me…. I am so unhappy, father, I'm so unhappy.'
Agnes dropped on her knees, and throwing her arms on her father's shoulder, she said:
'But, father, you're not listening. Listen to me, I've only you.'
'I'm thinking.'
'Of what?'
'Of many things.'
'Poor father, you have a great deal to think of, and I come interrupting your work. How selfish I am.'
'No, dear, you're not selfish…. I'm very glad you told me. So you think you'll never get on in society.'