"Do not be afraid, mother," said Anne, kissing her. "You have always me to stand between you and danger. I may never meet with this detective; I may never be questioned by him, and so all will be well. But should he come, why--I shall know how to answer him." "You will say nothing." "On the contrary, I shall say a great deal," replied Anne. "But such things as will mislead Mr. Fanks. He shall never be set on the right path by my telling; be sure of that." "I wish I could see you married to Ted, my dear," said her mother, comforted by these assurances. "It would be such a relief to my mind." "I am afraid we will not be able to marry for some considerable time. My dear Ted is very clever, but he cannot earn enough for us both to live on; and I do not wish to be a drag on him. No, no, mother, we must wait until things mend, and the outlook is brighter." "You could have married Dr. Binjoy." "I would not marry Dr. Binjoy if there was not another man in the world," said Anne, with supreme contempt. "He is a self-indulgent sensualist. My Ted is worth a dozen of him." "Still he is well-off," sighed Mrs. Colmer. "I do not see how you make that out, mother. He was, and is, entirely dependent on Sir Louis Fellenger for his money; and I want to have nothing to do with the Fellengers. Their family have cost us dear enough already." This reference to the dead Emma made Mrs. Colmer weep, and Anne had considerable difficulty in quietening her. However, she succeeded in the end, and left her mother to her own thoughts, while she herself went out into the garden for a breath of fresh air. Moreover, she wanted to be alone, for the purpose of thinking over the position of things. Anne could not but recognise that if certain contingencies arose, she and her mother would find themselves very awkwardly placed. The evening was warm, and the sky was filled with a mellow light, which rendered languid the atmosphere. Against this, the trees stood out in bold relief, every twig and leaf being sharply outlined against the amber sky. The sound of distant laughter, and the musical splash of oars came to the ears of the girl as she walked slowly down the path towards the summerhouse. A low, redbrick wall ran along the bank of the river, and as she leaned over this low parapet, Anne could see some considerable distance to right and left. Before a boating house on the opposite shore a number of people were collected; and every now and then a boat would shoot out into the gleaming waters bearing two or three of them away. Someone musically inclined had brought a banjo, and Anne could hear the thrumming of the strings, and the echo of the latest music-hall ditty. Altogether, the scene was not without its charm; but she was too much taken up with her own troubles to pay much attention to the pleasant picture spread out before her. The quiet of the evening brought no peace to her.