Then he went to see her again, miserable but stubborn, finding her also miserable and also stubborn.

They argued till there was grave danger of an absolute break between them; then dropped the subject by mutual agreement, and spent evenings of unsatisfying effort to talk about other things.
Diantha and her mother called on Mrs.Warden, of course, admiring the glorious view, the sweet high air, and the embowered loveliness of the two ranch houses.

Ross drew Diantha aside and showed her "theirs"-- a lovely little wide-porched concrete cottage, with a red-tiled roof, and heavy masses of Gold of Ophir and Banksia roses.
He held her hand and drew her close to him.
He kissed her when they were safe inside, and murmured: "Come, darling--won't you come and be my wife ?" "I will, Ross--whenever you say--but--!" She would not agree to give up her work, and he flung away from her in reckless despair.

Mrs.Warden and the girls returned the call as a matter of duty, but came no more; the mother saying that she could not take her daughters to a Servant Girls' Club.
And though the Servant Girls' Club was soon removed to its new quarters and Union House became a quiet, well-conducted hotel, still the two families saw but little of each other.
Mrs.Warden naturally took her son's side, and considered Diantha an unnatural monster of hard-heartedness.
The matter sifted through to the ears of Mrs.Thaddler, who rejoiced in it, and called upon Mrs.Warden in her largest automobile.

As a mother with four marriageable daughters, Mrs.Warden was delighted to accept and improve the acquaintance, but her aristocratic Southern soul was inwardly rebellious at the ancestorlessness and uncultured moneyed pride of her new friend.
"If only Madam Weatherstone had stayed!" she would complain to her daughters.