"I've just written my mother, and asked her to tell the rest of the
family, that we are engaged. They have as much right to know as your
uncle. You can do as you please about telling other people, of course.
But you can't wear another man's ring any longer. And it seems to me, as
we shall no longer be living in the same house, and as I shall be coming
constantly to see you after you come back to Hamstead, that it would be
much more dignified if I could do so openly, in the role of your
prospective husband. While as far as your friends here are
concerned--after what you told me this morning--I think you must agree
with me that it is much fairer to let them know at once how things stand
with you, and introduce me to them."

"I don't want to use up these few precious days giving parties. I want
you to myself."

"I know, dear--that's what I'd prefer, in one way, too. But I have got to
take some time for business, and later on your friends will feel that you
were ashamed of me--and be justified in feeling so--when they learn that
we are to be married, and that you were not willing to have me meet them
when I was here."

Sylvia did not answer, but sat with her eyes downcast, biting her lips,
and pulling the new ring back and forth on her finger.

"That is, of course, unless you _are_ ashamed--are you perfectly sure of
your own mind? If not, my letter isn't posted yet, and it is very easy to
tell your uncle that you have found you were mistaken in your feelings."

"What would you do if I should?" she asked defiantly.