"Mamma, he has not written again," said Florence, coming up one day from the stand.
"I suppose that you are impatient." "Why should there be a quarrel between us?
I am not impatient.

If you would only believe me, it would be so much more happy for both of us.
You always used to believe me." "That was before you knew Mr.Harry Annesley." There was something in this very aggravating,--something specially intended to excite angry feelings.

But Florence determined to forbear.
"I think you may believe me, mamma.

I am your own daughter, and I shall not deceive you.

I do consider myself engaged to Mr.Annesley." "You need not tell me that." "But while I am living with you I will promise not to receive letters from him without your leave.