Glynde, or Dora, or both, remained at home to
take care of the house. On this particular evening Mrs. Glynde proposed
that Dora should stay with her, and what her mother proposed Dora usually
acceded to.
"Dear," said the elder lady, with a nervous little jerk of the head which
was habitual or physical, "I have heard about Arthur."
They were sitting in the drawing-room, with windows open to the ground,
and the fading light was insufficient to read by, although both had
books.
"Yes, mother," answered the girl in rather a tired voice, quite
forgetting to be cheerful. "I should like to know exactly what you
heard."
"Well, Anna told me," and there was a whole world of distrust in the
little phrase, "that Arthur had asked you to be his wife, and that you
had refused without giving a reason."
"I gave him a reason," replied Dora; "the best one. I said that I did not
love him."
There was a little pause. The two women looked out on to the quiet lawn.
They seemed singularly anxious to avoid looking at each other.
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