“I don’t think our engagement can go on,” she plunged, and felt exactly that loss of breath that comes with a dive into icy water. “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. Ennison with my sister last night. There, that sounds frightfully involved, doesn’t it, but perhaps you can make out what I mean. ” It was a tiny little room, daintily furnished, individual in its quaint colouring, and the masses of perfumed flowers set in strange and unexpected places. Neither of them believed me. It was finished by the end of that year, each character having asserted itself pronouncedly in my imagination. "You read it, Ruth.
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