'It was no joke,' replied Annot, with still averted eyes, in which, however, there was not a vestige of those sympathetic tears, which, fur effect, she had usually so near the surface on trivial occasions; 'it cost me much to utter the few words I said—but I meant them.'
'You did?'
'Yes—Roland.'
'And that was to be your only reply to my remonstrances?'
'Made as these remonstrances were—yes. You are too exacting, Roland; and—and—' she added with a bluntness that jarred on his ear, 'it is so tiresome being long engaged, mamma says.'
'I am sorry you quote her; but we can end it without an unseemly quarrel, surely.'
She shook her head, and all her hair shone like a golden aureole in the sunlight; and with all his just anger Roland looked at her as if his mind were leaving him.
'In short, mamma also says——'
'Mamma again!—says what?'
'That we are evidently unsuited for each other.'