BEGGARS ON HORSEBACK
"Max dear, I can't marry you." "Nonsense!" His voice was sharp. He laid his hands heavily on her shoulders. "Why not? Look at me, Anne. Why not?"
"I'm not going to marry—anybody."
That was all he could get out of her. He pleaded, raged, and grew at last white and still with anger. "You might at least tell me your reasons."
She said that she would write. Perhaps she could say it better on paper. And she was very, very sorry, but she couldn't.
Winifred knew that something was up, but made no comment. Amy, carrying out their program of departure, had a sense of regret.
After all, it had been a lovely life, and there were worse things than being a sister to Maxwell Sears. Her voice broke a little as she tried to thank him on their last morning.
He wrung her hand. "Say a good word for me with Anne. I don't know what's the matter with her."
Neither did Amy. And if she was Maxwell's advocate how could she be Murray's? She flushed a little.
"Anne's such a child."
He remembered how he had called her a corking kid. She was more than that to him now.
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