"Of course you think so, because you're in love with her. She must take you, too. As if Jerrold wasn't enough." "She hasn't taken me. She probably won't if I ask her. You shouldn't say those things, Mother. You don't know what you're talking about." "I know I'm the most unhappy woman in the world. How am I going to live? I can't stand it if Jerry goes." "He's got to go, Mother." "He hasn't. Jerrold's place is here. He's got a duty and a responsibility. Your dear father didn't leave him the estate for him to let it go to wrack and ruin. It's most cruel and wrong of him." "He can't do anything else. Don't you see why he wants to go? He can't stand the place without Father." "I've got to stand it. So he may." "Well, he won't, that's all. He simply funks it." "He always was an arrant coward where trouble was concerned. He doesn't think of other people and how bad it is for them. He leaves me when I want him most." "It's hard on you, Mother; but you can't stop him. And I don't think you ought to try." "Oh, everybody tells me what _I_ ought to do. My children can do as they like. So can Anne. She and Jerrold can go off to India and amuse themselves as if nothing had happened and it's all right." But Anne didn't go off to India. When she spoke to Jerrold about going with him his hard, unhappy face showed her that he didn't want her. "You'd rather I didn't go," she said gently. "It isn't that, Anne. It isn't that I don't want you. It's--it's simply that I want to get away from here, to get away from everything that reminds me--I shall go off my head if I've got to remember every minute, every time I see somebody who--I want to make a clean break and grow a new memory." "I understand. You needn't tell me." "Mother doesn't. I wish you'd make her see it." "I'll try. But it's all right, Jerrold. I won't go." "Of course you'll go. Only you won't think me a brute if I don't take you out with me?" "I'm not going out with you. In fact, I don't think I'm going at all. I only wanted to because of going out together and because of the chance of seeing you when you got leave. I only thought of the heavenly times we might have had." "Don't--don't, Anne." "No, I won't. After all, I shouldn't care a rap about Ambala if you weren't there. And you may be stationed miles away. I'd rather go back to Ilford and do farming. Ever so much rather. India would really have wasted a lot of time." "Oh, Anne, I've spoilt all your pleasure." "No, you haven't. There isn't any pleasure to spoil--now." "What a brute--what a cad you must think me." "I don't, Jerry. It's not your fault. Things have just happened. And you see, I understand. I felt the same about Auntie Adeline after Mother died. I didn't want to see her because she reminded me--and yet, really, I loved her all the time." "You won't go back on me for it?"