pity's sake see
that that woman doesn't come blundering in. It's such an anti-climax to
have to deal with a tea-tray in the midst of personal explanations. I'm
not accustomed to eating humble pie, and if I am obliged to do it at
all, I prefer to do it in private."

"She won't come. I don't have tea for another hour," Claire assured
her. "And please don't eat humble pie for me. I was angry at the time,
but you had been very kind to me before. I--I enjoyed that first week
very much."

"And so did I!" Mrs Fanshawe gave one of her dry, humorous, little
laughs. "You are a charming companion, my dear. I was a little in love
with you myself, but-- Well! to be honest, it did not please me that my
son should follow my example. He is my only child, and I am proud and
ambitious for him, as any mother would be. I did not wish him to marry
a--a--"

"A gentlewoman who was honourably working at an honourable profession!"
concluded Claire for her, with a general stiffening of pose, voice and
manner; but Mrs Fanshawe only laughed once more, totally unaffected by
the pose.

"No, my dear, I did not! It's very praiseworthy, no doubt, to train the
next generation, but it doesn't appeal to me in the present connection.
I was thinking of my son, and I wanted him to have a wife of position
and fortune, who would be able to help his career. If you had been a
girl of fortune and position, I should have been quite ready to welcome
you. You are a pretty creature, and much more intelligent than most
girls of your age, but, you see, you are not--"

"I have no money but what I earn, but I belong to a good family. I
object to your saying that I have no position, Mrs Fanshawe, simply
because I live in lodgings and work for my living!"

Mrs Fanshawe shrugged with a touch of impatience.

"Oh, well, my dear, why bandy words? I have told you that I am beaten,
so it's useless to argue the point. Erskine has decided for himself,
and, as I told you before, one might as well try to bend a granite wall
as move him when he has once made up his mind. I've planned, and
schemed, and hoped, and prayed for the last dozen years, and at the
first sight of that pretty face of yours all my plans went to the wall.
If I'd been a wise woman I would have recognised the inevitable, and
given in with a good grace, but I never was wise, never shall be, so I
ran my head up against the wall. I've been through a bad time since you
left me, my dear, and