"Georgie"
know that it was the wrong kind of love?"
"When did you find out?" I asked.
"When—oh, you know—you know—no—you mustn't kiss me. I belong to Georgie."
I said something forcible about Georgie under my breath.
"I wanted to break off with him," she went on in a low voice, "long ago; but Anne wouldn't let me."
"Anne!"
"Yes, Georgie's rich, you know—or will be, and we are so wretchedly poor. Anne said that by hook or by crook, money had to be brought into the family. She said we must keep Georgie at any cost. She said she was such a plain little thing that it was out of the question for her to do it. There was only me. Anne doesn't believe in love. She says this sort of feeling doesn't last. Comfort, she says, is the only thing that really matters. But I—I can't quite see it in the same light—I am sure she is wrong."
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