Diana withdrew her chair a little.
"When are you going to be married? Are you still with those friends?"
Fanny laughed.
"Oh, Lord, no! I fell out with them long ago. They were a wretched lot! But I found a girl I knew, and we set up together. I've been in a blouse-shop earning thirty shillings a week--there! And if I hadn't, I'd have starved!"
Fanny raised her head. Their eyes met: Fanny's full of mingled bravado and misery; Diana's suddenly stricken with deep and remorseful distress.
"Fanny, I told you to write to me if there was anything wrong! Why didn't you?"
"You hated me!" said Fanny, sullenly.
"I didn't!" cried Diana, the tears rising to her eyes. "But--you hurt me so!" Then again she bent forward, laying her hand on her cousin's, speaking fast and low. "Fanny, I'm very sorry!--if I'd known you were in trouble I'd have come or written--I thought you were with friends, and I knew the money had been paid. But, Fanny, I implore you!--give up Mr. Birch! Nobody speaks well of him! You'll be miserable!--you must be!"
"Too late to think of that!" said Fanny, doggedly.
Diana looked up in sudden terror. Fanny tried to brazen it out. But all the patchy color left her cheeks, and, dropping her head on her hands, she began to sob. Yet even the sobs were angry.