“But Sunny—what’s the matter? What’s the man done?”
“He wants to marry me, Harriet, and he’s come here—oh, how shameful! how insulting! At such a time as this!”
“But I should think this was just the time for him to come!” said Harriet, laughing in spite of herself. “Surely, Sylvia, if you haven’t gone formally into mourning——”
“I won’t see him!” cried the other, passionately. “He must be made to understand it at once—he’ll gain nothing by coming here!”
“But, Sunny,” suggested her friend, “hadn’t you better wait until he tries to see you?”
“Where is he, Harriet?”
“He’s staying with Mrs. Chilton.”
“With Aunt Nannie!” Sylvia stood, staring at Harriet with sudden fear in her face. She saw now why van Tuiver had made no attempt to see her, why nothing had been said to her as yet! She clenched her hands tightly and exclaimed, “I won’t marry him! They sha’n’t sell me to him—they sha’n’t, they sha’n’t!”
Her friend was gazing at her in wonder, not unmixed with alarm. “Good God, Sunny,” she exclaimed, “can he be so bad that you’d refuse to marry him?”