looked down at St. George's sleek back and felt horribly afraid. Rosemary had either said she would or she wouldn't. If she would Ellen would feel so ashamed and remorseful that she would be a very uncomfortable bride-elect; and if she wouldn't—well, Ellen had once learned to live without Norman Douglas, but she had forgotten the lesson and felt that she could never learn it again.
"I said that as far as I was concerned you were at full liberty to marry each other as soon as you liked," said Rosemary.
"Thank you," said Ellen, still looking at St. George.
Rosemary's face softened.
"I hope you'll be happy, Ellen," she said gently.
"Oh, Rosemary," Ellen looked up in distress, "I'm so ashamed—I don't deserve it—after all I said to you"
"We won't speak about that," said Rosemary hurriedly and decidedly.
"But—but," persisted Ellen, "you are free now, too—and it's not too late—John Meredith"—
"Ellen West!" Rosemary had a little spark of temper under all her sweetness and it flashed forth now in her blue eyes. "Have you quite lost your senses in every respect? Do you suppose for an instant that I am going to go to John Meredith and say meekly, 'Please, sir, I've changed my mind and please, sir, I hope you haven't changed yours.' Is that what you want me to do?"
