"Oh, you mustn't grieve about me!" she exclaimed; "it isn't worth that; I'm not worth it. You know—you know, so many women in the world have to make a living; and they do make it, somehow. It's only one more."
"And so many women find they can't! Tell me, must you go? Are you quite sure you're not exaggerating the necessity? I don't ask you your reasons, I never meddle in people's private affairs. But are you sure you aren't looking on anything in a false light and going to extremes?"
"Oh!" responded Mary, carried into sudden candour, "do you suppose I don't shiver at the prospect? Do you suppose it attracts me? I'm not a girl, I'm not quixotic; I can't stop here!"
The elder woman sighed.
"Why couldn't you care for such a good fellow as my son?" she thought. "Then there would have been none of this bother for any of us!"
"I hope you'll be fortunate," she said gently. "Anything I can do to help you, of course, I will!"
"Thank you," said Mary.
"I mean, you mustn't scruple to refer to me; it's your only chance. Without any references——"
"Yes, I know too well how indispensable they are; but——"
"You have been here two years. I shall say I should have liked it to remain your home."