"No, no," she repeated, feeling the tears on her lashes. "I
couldn't, Mr. Ramy, I couldn't marry. I'm so surprised.
I always thought it was Evelina--always. And so did everybody
else. She's so bright and pretty--it seemed so natural."

"Well, you was all mistaken," said Mr. Ramy obstinately.

"I'm so sorry."

He rose, pushing back his chair.

"You'd better think it over," he said, in the large tone of a
man who feels he may safely wait.

"Oh, no, no. It ain't any sorter use, Mr. Ramy. I don't
never mean to marry. I get tired so easily--I'd be afraid of the
work. And I have such awful headaches." She paused, racking her
brain for more convincing infirmities.

"Headaches, do you?" said Mr. Ramy, turning back.

"My, yes, awful ones, that I have to give right up to.
Evelina has to do everything when I have one of them headaches.
She has to bring me my tea in the mornings."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear it," said Mr. Ramy.

"Thank you kindly all the same," Ann Eliza murmured. "And
please don't--don't--" She stopped suddenly, looking at him
through her tears.