'I hope you quite understand what I mean,' Dagworthy continued, as if discussing an ordinary matter of business. 'No one will ever dream that your father has done anything to be ashamed of. After all, it is not so impossible that you should marry me for my own sake;'--he said it with bitterness. 'People will see nothing to wonder at. Fortunately, no one knows of that--of what you told me. Your father and mother will be easy for the rest of their lives, and without a suspicion that there has been anything but what appears on the surface. I needn't say how things are likely to look in the other event.' Still she stood silent. 'I don't expect an answer now--' Emily shook her head. 'But,' he continued, 'you mustn't leave it after to-morrow night. It will be too late.' She began to move away from him. With a step or two he followed her; she turned, with a passionate movement of repulsion, terror, and hate transfiguring her countenance, made for the expression of all sweet and tender and noble things. Dagworthy checked himself, turned about, and walked quickly from the place. CHAPTER XI EMILY'S DECISION Emily reached home a few minutes before dinner-time. Her mother came to her from the back of the house, where things were in Saturday tumult, speaking with a voice of fretful satisfaction. 'I'd just given you up, and was wondering whether to let the meat spoil or begin dinner alone.' 'I am sorry to be late, mother.' 'No, you're not late, my dear,' the mother admitted. 'It's only that you're a little uncertain, and when one o'clock draws on I can never be quite sure of you, if you're out. I must say I like punctuality, though I dare say it's an old-fashioned kind of thing. Which would you like, potatoes baked or boiled? I've got both, as I always think the baked keep better for your father.' 'Whichever you have yourself, mother.' 'Now, child, do make a choice! As if you couldn't say which you would prefer.' 'Boiled.' 'There now, you say that because you think there won't be enough of the others. I know very well yen always like the baked, when I have them. Don't you, now, Emily?' 'Mother, which you like! What _does_ it matter?' 'Well, my dear, I'm sure I only wanted to please you,' said Mrs. Hood, in her tone of patience under injury. 'I can't see why you should be angry with me. If I could give you more choice I would. No doubt you're used to having potatoes done in all sorts of superior ways, but unfortunately I wasn't brought up as a cook--' The strange look with which Emily was regarding her brought her to a pause; her voice dropped. 'Mother dear,' said the girl, in a low and shaken tone, 'I am neither foolish nor unkind; do try to believe that. Something is troubling me. To-day let your choice be mine.' Mrs. Hood moved away, and served the dinner in silence. 'What is your trouble, my dear?' she asked presently. 'Can't you tell me?'