The tears⁠—miserable, weak, women’s tears of vexation and rage⁠—started to my eyes. She smiled sadly, and put her handkerchief over my face to hide for me the betrayal of my own weakness⁠—the weakness of all others which she knew that I most despised.

“Oh, Marian!” she said. “ You crying! Think what you would say to me, if the places were changed, and if those tears were mine. All your love and courage and devotion will not alter what must happen, sooner or later. Let my uncle have his way. Let us have no more troubles and heartburnings that any sacrifice of mine can prevent. Say you will live with me, Marian, when I am married⁠—and say no more.”