er a pause--

'So you have till to-morrow night to make up your mind. You can either
send me a note or come and see me; I shall be at home whenever you
come.'

Emily stood in silence.

'I hope you quite understand what I mean,' Dagworthy continued, as if
discussing an ordinary matter of business. 'No one will ever dream that
your father has done anything to be ashamed of. After all, it is not so
impossible that you should marry me for my own sake;'--he said it with
bitterness. 'People will see nothing to wonder at. Fortunately, no one
knows of that--of what you told me. Your father and mother will be easy
for the rest of their lives, and without a suspicion that there has been
anything but what appears on the surface. I needn't say how things are
likely to look in the other event.'

Still she stood silent.

'I don't expect an answer now--'

Emily shook her head.

'But,' he continued, 'you mustn't leave it after to-morrow night. It
will be too late.'

She began to move away from him. With a step or two he followed her; she
turned, with a passionate movement of repulsion, terror, and hate
transfiguring her countenance, made for the expression of all sweet and
tender and noble things.

Dagworthy checked himself, turned about, and walked quickly from the
place.

CHAPTER XI

EMILY'S DECISION

Emily reached home a few minutes before dinner-time. Her mother came to
her from the back of the house, where things were in Saturday tumult,
speaking with a voice of fretful satisfaction.

'I'd just given you up, and was wondering whether to let the meat spoil
or begin dinner alone.'

'I am sorry to be late, mother.'

'No, you're not late, my dear,' the mother admitted. 'It's only that
you're a little uncertain, and when one o'clock draws on I can never be
quite sure of you, if you're out. I must say I like punctuality, though
I dare say it's an old-fashioned kind of thing. Which would you like,
potatoes baked or boiled? I've got both, as I always think the baked
keep better for your father.'

'Whichever you have yourself, mother.'

'Now, child, do make a choice! As if you couldn't say which you would
prefer.'

'Boiled.'

'There now, you say that because you think there won't be enough of the
others. I know very well yen always like the baked, when I have them.
Don't you, now, Emily?'

'Mother, which you like! What _does_ it matter?'

'Well, my dear, I'm sure I only wanted to please you,' said Mrs