try."

"Give her time. Give her time."

He rose, smiling down at her.

"You think I'm unreasonable?"

"The least bit in the world. For the moment."

"My dear John, if I didn't love your little girl I wouldn't care."

"Love her. Love her. She'll love you too, in her rum way. She's fighting
you now. She wouldn't fight if she didn't feel she was beaten. Nobody
could hold out against you long."

She looked at the clock.

"Heavens! I must go and dress."

She thought: "_He_ didn't hold out against me, poor dear, five minutes.
I suppose he'll always remember that I jilted him for Robert."

And now he wanted her to see that if Anne's mother would be always
Anne's mother, his wife would be always his wife. Was he desperately
faithful, too? Always?

How could he have been? It was characteristic of Alice Severn that when
she had to choose between her husband and her daughter she had chosen
Anne. It was characteristic of John that when he had to choose between
his wife and his Government, he had not chosen Alice. He must have had
adventures out in India, conducted with the discretion becoming in a
Commissioner and a Member of the Legislative Council, but adventures.
Perhaps he was going back to one of them.

Severn dressed hastily and went into the schoolroom where Anne sat
reading in her solitary hour between supper time and bed-time. He took
her on his knee, and she snuggled there, rubbing her head against his
shoulder. He thought of Adeline, teasing, teasing for the child's
caresses, and every time repulsed.

"Anne," he said, "don't you think you can love Auntie Adeline?"

Anne straightened herself. She looked at him with candid eyes. "I don't
know, Daddy, really, if I can."

"Can't you love her a little?"

"I--I would, if she wouldn't try--"

"Try?"

"To do like Mummy did."

Robert was right. He knew it, but he wanted to be sure.

Anne went on. "It's no use, you see, her trying. It only makes me think
of Mummy more."

"Don't you _want_ to think of her?"

"Yes. But I want to think by myself, and Auntie Adeline keeps on getting
in the way."

"Still, she's awfully kind to you, isn't she?"

"Awfully."

"And you mustn't hurt her feelings."

"Have I? I didn't mean to."

"You wouldn't if you loved her."

"_You_ haven't ever hurt her feelings, have you, Daddy?"

"No."

"Well, you see, it's because I keep on thinking about Mummy. I want her
back--I want her so awfully."

"I know, Anne, I know