Anne, as usual, respected her mother’s wishes; she neither came up nor sent to enquire. But the next morning, in the old way, fresh and shining, she appeared with Mrs. Clephane’s breakfast-tray. She wanted to be reassured as to her mother’s health, and Kate, under her solicitous eye, poured out a cup of tea and forced down a bit of toast. “You look tired, mother. It’s only that?” “Only that, dear.” “You didn’t tell me that Aunt Enid had been in last night about the house next door--” Anne spoke the least little reproachfully. “I’m sorry. I had such a headache that when she left I went straight to my room. Did she telephone you?” “Uncle Hendrik did. Isn’t it the greatest luck? It will be such fun arranging it all.” The girl paused and looked at her mother. “And this will make you decide, darling, won’t it?” “Decide?” “To stay on here. To keep this house for yourself. It will be almost like our all being together.” “Yes--almost.” “You will stay, won’t you?” “Stay here? I can’t--I can’t!” The words escaped before Mrs. Clephane could repress them. Her heart began to rush about in her like a caged animal. Anne’s brows darkened and drew together. “But I don’t understand. You told Chris you would--” “Did I? Perhaps I did. But I must sometimes be allowed to change my mind,” Mrs. Clephane murmured, forcing a thin smile. “To change your mind about being with us? You don’t want to, then, after all?” Mrs. Clephane pushed the tray away and propped herself on her elbow. “No, I don’t want to.” “How you say it, mother! As if I were a stranger. I don’t understand....” The girl’s lip was beginning to tremble. “I thought ... Chris and I both thought....” “I’m sorry. But I must really decide as I think best. When you are married you won’t need me.” “And shan’t you need me, mother? Not a little?” Anne hesitated, and then ventured, timidly: “You’re so alone--so awfully alone.” “I’ve always been that. It can’t be otherwise. You’ve chosen ... you’ve chosen to be married....” Anne stood up and looked down on her with searching imperious eyes. “Is it my being married--or my being married to Chris?” “Ah--don’t let us talk of that again!” The girl continued to scrutinize her strangely. “Once for all--you won’t tell me?” Mrs. Clephane did not speak. “Then I shall ask him--I shall ask him in your presence,” Anne exclaimed in a shaking voice. At the sound of that break in her voice the dread of seeing her suffer once more superseded every other feeling in the mother’s breast. She leaned against the pillows, speechless for a moment; then she held out her hand, seeking Anne’s. “There’s nothing to ask, dear; nothing to tell.” “You don’t hate him, mother? You really don’t?” Slowly Kate Clephane articulated: “I don’t--hate him.” “But why won’t you see him with me, then? Why won’t you talk it all out with us once for all? Mother, what _is_ it? I must know.”