"It is very kind of you to say so, ma'am," Elizabeth said, rising decisively to her feet and folding her embroidery into her work bag, "but lam in the sort of position in which I belong. And I have no wish to marry. Come, Cecily, love, it is time to go to your room to get ready for dinner. You know your papa does not like it when you are I.ile."

Elizabeth escorted Cecily to her room, rang for her maid, and retired to her own room to get ready for dinner. She too was to dine with the family, as she had done for the past year, since Cecily was declared too old for the schoolroom and the governess's title was changed to that of companion. Even before that, Elizabeth had frequently been asked to dine. Mrs. Rowe was very conscious of the fact that the governess had been born a lady and that only straitened circumstances had forced her to seek employment. She had tried for all of the six years to treat Elizabeth as a friend rather than as an employee. The governess had gently but firmly resisted. She had been quite determined, in fact, to leave the house and seek a position elsewhere once Cecily no longer needed her, but Mrs. Rowe had pleaded so convincingly that her daughter needed a companion to restrain her wilder impulses that Elizabeth had agreed to stay for another few years.

Elizabeth Rossiter was six and twenty years old. She looked the part of a governess as she dressed for dinner without the help of a maid. The gray cotton dress, with its high, unadorned neckline and long, fitting sleeves, was changed for an evening dress that was almost identical except that the fabric was silk. She loosened her long chestnut hair, which was tied in a severe knot at the back of her neck, brushed it until it shone and crackled against the hard bristles of the brush, and arranged it in the same style. The face that looked back at her from the mirror was calm. There was no self-pity in the look.