“Perhaps his mother doesn’t want him to marry anybody,” suggested Anne.
“Oh, she does. She’s told me time and again that she’d love to see John settled before her time comes. She’s always giving him hints—you heard her yourself the other day. I thought I’d ha’ gone through the floor.”
“It’s beyond me,” said Anne helplessly. She thought of Ludovic Speed. But the cases were not parallel. John Douglas was not a man of Ludovic’s type.
“You should show more spirit, Janet,” she went on resolutely. “Why didn’t you send him about his business long ago?”
“I couldn’t,” said poor Janet pathetically. “You see, Anne, I’ve always been awful fond of John. He might just as well keep coming as not, for there was never anybody else I’d want, so it didn’t matter.”
“But it might have made him speak out like a man,” urged Anne.
Janet shook her head.
“No, I guess not. I was afraid to try, anyway, for fear he’d think I meant it and just go. I suppose I’m a poor-spirited creature, but that is how I feel. And I can’t help it.”
“Oh, you could help it, Janet. It isn’t too late yet. Take a firm stand. Let that man know you are not going to endure his shillyshallying any longer. I’ll back you up.”
“I dunno,” said Janet hopelessly. “I dunno if I could ever get up enough spunk. Things have drifted so long. But I’ll think it over.”