“Oh,” said Ann, “I have been so anxious all afternoon!”
“Have you, dear? Excuse me, Ann,—but whether you ever learn to care for me or not, you are the dearest, sweetest, most wonderful girl that ever gave her sympathy to a good-for-nothing college boy, who has wasted half of his opportunities!”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Maury,” said Ann, as soon as she could get breath to speak, after hearing the first part of Maurice’s remark. “There is a good deal to that same college boy.”
“I’m glad to hear you say so, but I’m pretty well discouraged tonight. It was hard to keep going with the fun, but I don’t want to appear different.”
“It was,—it was true, then?”
“It was,—and more. I am simply dazed, Ann. The only happy thing about it is that I am not your cousin at all. I am holding on to that. I feel like throwing up the whole thing, college and all. How can I ever finish the year?”
“O Maury, please! You will always regret it if you give up when you are so nearly through. Please,—for me, if you like me a little!”
“A little! Hard luck, isn’t it?—to fall desperately in love just when the very foundations slip from under your feet, like the sand on the shore!”
“But surely it isn’t so bad as all that, Maury. Uncle Tyson cares about you and will help you start out just the same, won’t he? I don’t understand. You did not have any trouble, did you?”
“No, indeed. And I am asked not to talk about it openly in the family yet. I can’t refuse, under the circumstances. But promise me, Ann, if anything comes up, any reason why Grandmother ought to be told, you will tell her from me. I don’t want her to go on thinking,—well, I’d better tell you the whole story first. But let me tell you one thing, Ann. There will never be any deceiving of any one to my record, if I keep my mind!”