"Yes," said Annette; "and yet I have always been thankful in a way they did not know. I have felt the last few days as if the only thing I really could not bear was telling the aunts. But this will be even worse--I mean that you say everybody will know. It will wound them in their pride, and upset them dreadfully. And they are fond of me now, which will make it worse for them if it is publicly known. They might have got over it if only Roger and Janey knew. But they will never forgive me putting them to public shame." "Come and live with me," said Mrs. Stoddart fiercely. "I love you, Annette." And in her heart she thought that if her precious only son, her adored Mark, did fall in love with Annette he could not do better. "Come and live with me." "I will gladly come and live with you for a time later on." "Come now." "Not yet." "It's no use stopping," she said, taking the girl by the shoulders. "What's the good? Your Roger won't marry you, my poor child." "No," said Annette firmly, though her lips had blanched. "I know he will not. But--I ran away before when some one would not marry me, and it did not make things any better--only much, much worse. My mind is made up. I will stay this time." CHAPTER XLI "Il ne suffit pas d'être logique en ce monde; il faut savoir vivre avec ceux qui ne le sont pas."--VALTOUR. In later years Annette remembered little of the days that passed while Roger was in France. They ought to have been terrible days, days of suspense and foreboding, but they were not. Her mind was at rest. It had long oppressed her that her two best friends, Roger and Janey, were in ignorance of certain facts about her which their friendship for her and their trust in her gave them a right to know. With a sinking of the heart, she said to herself, "They know now." But that was easier to bear than "They ought to know." If she had hoped for a letter from Roger none came, but I hardly think she was so foolish as to hope it. Janey had been to see her, had climbed up to her little attic, and had stretched out her arms to her. And Annette and she had held each other closely, and looked into each other's eyes, and kissed each other in silence. No word passed between them, and then Janey had gone away again. The remembrance of that wordless embrace lay heavy on Janey's sore heart. Annette, pallid and worn, had blamed no one, had made no excuse for herself. How she had misjudged Annette!--she, her friend.