When he sat down beside her again and tried to take her hand, she drew it away.
“You've been very cruel, Graham,” she said. “I've been selfish. Every girl who is terribly in love is selfish. I am going to give you your ring, and leave you free to do whatever you want.”
Her generosity overcame him. He was instantly ashamed, humbled.
“Don't!” he begged. “Don't let me go. I'll just go to the dogs. If you really care?”
“Care!” she said softly. And as he buried his head in her lap she stroked his hair softly. Her eyes, triumphant, surveyed the long room, with its satin-paneled walls, its French furniture, its long narrow gilt-framed mirrors softening the angles of the four corners.
Some day all this would be hers. For this she would exchange the untidy and imitation elegance of her present setting.
She stroked the boy's head absently.
Graham made an attempt to free himself the next day. He was about to move his office to the new plant, and he made a determination not to take Anna with him.
He broke it to her as gently as he could.
“Mr. Weaver is taking my place here,” he said, avoiding her eyes.