sitting
bolt upright on the foot of my bed, wide-awake, alert, eyes bright and
hard as steel.

"Well?" she asked the instant I came in, "tell me, is he as keen as
ever?"

A wave of something like sickness swept over me.

"Yes," I said shortly.

"Is he _really_?" she pursued. "Oh, isn't that splendid! Really? He
still wants you to marry him?"

"Yes," I said.

Edith flung her arm about me and squeezed me hard.

"We'll make that old cat of a mother of his sing another song one of
these days," she said. "You're a wonderful little kiddie, after all.
You'll save the day! Trust you! You'll pull it off yet! Oh, I have been
horrid, Ruth, this last fortnight. Really I have. I was so afraid we
were ruined, and we would be if it wasn't for you. Wait a jiffy."

Fifteen minutes later, just as, very wearily, I was putting out my
light, Edith pushed open my door again with a cup of something steaming
hot in her hand.

"Here," she said. "Malted milk, good and hot, with just a dash of sherry
in it. 'Twill make you sleep. You drink it, poor child--wonderful child
too! You jump in and drink it! I'll fix the windows and the lights."

I tried to be Edith's idea of wonderful. For a week I endured the
ignominy of receiving calls from Breck in secret, late at night when he
was able to steal away from the gaieties at Grassmere. For a week I
spent long idle days in the garden, in my room, on the veranda--anywhere
at all where I could best kill the galling, unoccupied hours until
night, and Breck was free to come to me.

I did not annoy him with demands for explanation of a situation
already painfully clear to me. I knew that he spoke truth when he
assured me he could not alter his mother's opposition at present, and
I did not disturb our evening talks by reproaches. I assumed a grand
air of indifference toward Mrs. Sewall and her attacks, as if I was
some invulnerable creature beyond and above her. I didn't even cheapen
myself by appearing to observe that Breck's invitations to appear in
public with him had suddenly been replaced by demands for private and
stolen interviews.

Of course his duties as host were many and consumed most of his time.
His clever mother saw to that. He said that there were twenty guests at
Grassmere. Naturally, I told myself, he couldn't take all-day motor
trips with me. I was convinced that my strength lay in whatever charm I
possessed for him, and I had no intention of injuring it by ill-timed
complai