“There may be but the one alternative.” Anne had some difficulty in speaking and her voice was little more than a whisper. “Suppose—suppose there was an unsurmountable obstacle—”
“An obstacle—of what kind?”
“A—a previous marriage—”
“Good God!” Mrs. Meredith stepped back and clutched a chair for support. “You don’t mean—Anne—!”
“That I might be already married?” Anne’s soft voice added flame to her mother’s fury. Stepping forward she gazed sternly at her daughter.
“No; it is not possible,” she declared. “I know every incident in your life. The good Sisters kept a strict watch, and you have never been away from my chaperonage since you left the convent. You cannot avoid your uncle’s wishes with such a palpable lie.” In her relief she laughed. “Anne, you frightened me, silly child.”
“And what are your feelings compared to mine?” Anne raised miserable, agonized eyes and gazed straight at her mother. “Uncle John demands that I marry David Curtis, and you, mother, are playing into his hands for this most unnatural marriage—”
“Unnatural—?”
“Yes. You both wish me to marry a stranger—a blind man.”
“Say, rather, a hero blinded in the late War.”