"I'd go anywhere to see him. I don't care what people say; I'm going to see him."
As Harriet bent to fasten her shoes, Mrs. Floyd touched her.
"Daughter, are you engaged to Mr. Westerfelt?"
Harriet did not look up. She still bent over her shoes, but the strings lay motionless in her fingers.
"No, he intimated he couldn't marry me, on—on account of my misfortune. Oh, don't let's talk about it. He and I understand each other. He loves me, but we're not engaged."
Mrs. Floyd leaned against the mantel-piece. Her face had become hard and stern. Harriet started to leave the room, but Mrs. Floyd suddenly stepped between her and the door.
"He intimated that that would keep him from marrying you? My Lord—the coward!"
"Mother, don't—don't say that!"
"I thought he was a man! Why, he is lower than a brute."
Harriet disengaged herself from her mother's grasp, and passed on to the door. She turned on the threshold.