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Rh But Marianne suddenly drew herself up where they were sitting—she with Constance' arms around her—nervous, terrified, at once knowing, understanding:

"No, Auntie, no!" she almost screamed.

"Marianne! . . ."

"No, Auntie, oh, no, no, no! I can't do it, I can't do it!"

And she threw herself back, sobbed out her words, as though she no longer dared fling herself into Constance' arms.

"Marianne, he is very fond of you . . . and he is such a good fellow. . . ."

"Oh, Auntie, no, no, no! . . . No, no, Auntie, no! . . . I can't do it!"

Constance was silent. Then she said:

"So, it's no, darling?"

"No, Auntie, no, no! . . . I don't care for him, I can never, never care for him! Oh, no, no, it is cruel of you, if you ask that of me, if you want to force me into it! . . . I don't care for him . . . There is . . . there is some one else . . ."

She was silent, stared before her like a madwoman, with the same fixed stare as her mother. And suddenly she became very still, accepting her anguish, and said, gently, with a heart-rending smile:

"No, Auntie . . . no. I would rather go . . . with Mamma and Louise . . . to Baarn. We shall live very pleasantly there . . . cosily, the three of