who felt no longer dreamlike. Leaning back in the deep red arm-chair, she looked down at her hands and began to slip a ring on and off her finger; the expression of her face remained guarded and remote.
"Anne," said her aunt, "you are making it hard for me."
There was a slight pause, and then Anne said without lifting her eyes, "The situation itself is hard. You fear that I am falling in love with a man who could not make me happy, and you want to know if your fear is correct. It is not. I do not love Signor Curatulo."
But Margaret was not reassured. "You may not love him to-day; but you may to-morrow."
"What woman can answer for to-morrow?" she said, with a lightness that her aunt knew to be assumed.
"Have you thought that he may believe you to have money?" she asked bluntly.
Anne dropped her hands in her lap, and looked gravely at her aunt.
"I do not believe Gino Curatulo cares for me because of any money he thinks I may have."
"I shall tell him how very little you have," said Margaret. "I shall tell him to-night." She rose,
evidently relieved by the resolution, and stood look-73
