"Yes," said Annette; "and yet I have always been thankful in a way they did not know. I have felt the last few days as if the only thing I really could not bear was telling the aunts. But this will be even worse—I mean that you say everybody will know. It will wound them in their pride, and upset them dreadfully. And they are fond of me now, which will make it worse for them if it is publicly known. They might have got over it if only Roger and Janey knew. But they will never forgive me putting them to public shame."
"Come and live with me," said Mrs. Stoddart fiercely. "I love you, Annette." And in her heart she thought that if her precious only son, her adored Mark, did fall in love with Annette he could not do better. "Come and live with me."
"I will gladly come and live with you for a time later on."
"Come now."
"Not yet."
"It's no use stopping," she said, taking the girl by the shoulders. "What's the good? Your Roger won't marry you, my poor child."
"No," said Annette firmly, though her lips had blanched. "I know he will not. But—I ran away before when some one would not marry me, and it did not make things any better—only much, much worse. My mind is made up. I will stay this time."