"You'd better ask her," said Eliot, never dreaming that she would.
But that was what Adeline did. She came that night to Anne's room just as Anne was getting into bed. Unappeased by her defenseless attitude, she attacked with violence.
"What's all this about Eliot asking you to marry him?"
Anne uncurled herself and sat up on the edge of her bed.
"Did he tell you?"
"Yes. Of course he told me. He says you refused him. Did you?"
"I'm afraid I did."
"Then Anne, you're a perfect little fool."
"But Auntie, I don't love him."
"Nonsense; you love him as much as most people love the men they marry.
He's quite sensible. He doesn't want you to go mad about him."