“I wish you’d wait a little,” said the girl in a voice just distinct enough to betray a quaver.
“Of course I’ll wait if you’ll give me hope. But you take my life away.”
“I’ll not give you up—oh no!” Pansy went on.
“He’ll try and make you marry some one else.”
“I’ll never do that.”
“What then are we to wait for?”
She hesitated again. “I’ll speak to Mrs. Osmond and she’ll help us.” It was in this manner that she for the most part designated her stepmother.
“She won’t help us much. She’s afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Of your father, I suppose.”