Sophie wiped her hands on her apron. “It isn’t what I would or would not allow, my dear. I can go so far; but there might come a point when Larry Hughes would crush me without a thought, if I stood in his way. No one can help you but yourself. The easy way out is to marry him. That isn’t so terrible a thing as you fancy⁠—unless there is someone else.”

A faint blush stained Penelope’s cheeks, which did not escape the quick eyes of the older woman. “There is no one else,” she said hurriedly, “no one at all. But you must know how I feel. Now, if you are afraid of this man, why don’t you go away? Why not come with me, now? I can’t pay you anything, but I have friends who would protect you.” She clutched impulsively at the skirts of the other who now stood near her. “Dear Mrs. Lengholm⁠—”

Sophie shook her off, with a sudden change of manner. “I am not a sentimental child. Don’t waste any of that kind of stuff on me. Here I am, and here I stay. You’d better go and find something to amuse yourself. I’m busy.”