Marcella went restlessly towards the fire and began to examine the things on the mantelpiece.
"Can't people agree to differ, you sentimentalist? Can't they respect each other, without echoing each other on every subject?"
"Respect!" cried Mary, with a sudden scorn, which was startling from a creature so soft.
"There, she could tear me in pieces!" said Marcella, laughing, though her lip was not steady. "I wonder what you would be like, Mary, if you were engaged."
Mary ran her needle in and out with lightning speed for a second or two, then she said almost under her breath—
"I shouldn't be engaged unless I were in love. And if I were in love, why, I would go anywhere—do anything—believe anything—if he told me!"
"Believe anything?—Mary—you wouldn't!"
"I don't mean as to religion," said Mary, hastily. "But everything else—I would give it all up!—governing one's self, thinking for one's self. He should do it, and I would bless him!"
She looked up crimson, drawing a very long breath, as though from some deep centre of painful, passionate feeling. It was Marcella's turn to stare. Never had Mary so revealed herself before.
"Did you ever love any one like that, Mary?" she asked quickly.