“Silence.”
“Sorry.”
They walked on for a quarter of a mile.
“Does anybody know?”
“Only our two selves, Annie and her mother—oh! and Annette.”
“Annette!”
Francis was really angry. The thing had touched his new affection, the treasure of his life, and by that test he saw it in its ugliness and sordidness. For the first time he was wholly human. His one thought was to protect Annette.
“Are you going to marry this girl?” he asked.
“No.”
“Are you going to provide for her?”