I'm engaged," she repeated, in a muffled voice.

"Don't marry him!" cried Diana, imploringly. "He's not--he's not a good
man."

"What do you know about it? He's well enough, though I dare say he's not
your sort. He'd be all right if somebody would just lend a hand--help
him with the debts, and put him on his feet again. He suits me, anyway.
I'm not so thin-skinned."

Diana stiffened. Fanny's manner--as of old--was almost incredible,
considered as the manner of one in difficulties asking for help. The
sneering insolence of it inevitably provoked the person addressed.

"Have you told Aunt Bertha?" she said, coldly--"asked her consent?"

"Mother? Oh, I've told her I'm engaged. She knows very well that I
manage my own business."

Diana withdrew her chair a little.

"When are you going to be married? Are you still with those friends?"

Fanny laughed.

"Oh, Lord, no! I fell out with them long ago. They were a wretched lot!
But I found a girl I knew, and we set up together. I've been in a
blouse-shop earning thirty shillings a week--there! And if I hadn't, I'd
have starved!"

Fanny raised her head. Their eyes met: Fanny's full of mingled bravado
and misery; Diana's suddenly stricken with deep and remorseful distress.

"Fanny, I told you to write to me if there was anything wrong! Why
didn't you?"

"You hated me!" said Fanny, sullenly.

"I didn't!" cried Diana, the tears rising to her eyes. "But--you hurt me
so!" Then again she bent forward, laying her hand on her cousin's,
speaking fast and low. "Fanny, I'm very sorry!--if I'd known you were in
trouble I'd have come or written--I thought you were with friends, and I
knew the money had been paid. But, Fanny, I _implore_ you!--give up Mr.
Birch! Nobody speaks well of him! You'll be miserable!--you must be!"

"Too late to think of that!" said Fanny, doggedly.

Diana looked up in sudden terror. Fanny tried to brazen it out. But all
the patchy color left her cheeks, and, dropping her head on her hands,
she began to sob. Yet even the sobs were angry.

"I can go and drown myself!" she said, passionately, "and I suppose I'd
better. Nobody cares whether I do or not! He's made a fool of me--I
don't suppose mother'll take me home again. And if he doesn't marry me,
I'll kill myself somehow--it don't matter how--before--I've got to!"

Diana had dropped on her knees beside her visitor.
Unconsciously--pitifully--she breathed her cousin's name. Fanny looked
up. She wrenc