That's the truth, my dear.
But since they must be got through, I thought it might be better if you went back to your mother." Sylvia shook her head.
"It would be better," he urged, with a look toward the house.
"I can't do that.

Afterward, in a year's time--when we are together, I should like very much for us both to go to her.

But my mother forbade it when I went away from Chamonix.

I was not to come whining back to her, those were her words.

We parted altogether that night." She spoke with an extreme simplicity.