It was stormy , so no mention was made of going to church . In the afternoon Rosemary shut herself in her room and wrote a note to John Meredith . She could not trust herself to say `` no '' in person . She felt quite sure that if he suspected she was saying `` no '' reluctantly he would not take it for an answer , and she could not face pleading or entreaty . She must make him think she cared nothing at all for him and she could do that only by letter . She wrote him the stiffest , coolest little refusal imaginable . It was barely courteous ; it certainly left no loophole of hope for the boldest lover -- and John Meredith was anything but that . He shrank into himself , hurt and mortified , when he read Rosemary 's letter next day in his dusty study . But under his mortification a dreadful realization presently made itself felt . He had thought he did not love Rosemary as deeply as he had loved Cecilia . Now , when he had lost her , he knew that he did . She was everything to him -- everything ! And he must put her out of his life completely . Even friendship was impossible now . Life stretched before him in intolerable dreariness . He must go on -- there was his work -- his children -- but the heart had gone out of him . He sat alone all that evening in his dark , cold , comfortless study with his head bowed on his hands . Up on the hill Rosemary had a headache and went early to bed , while Ellen remarked to St. George , purring his disdain of foolish humankind , who did not know that a soft cushion was the only thing that really mattered , `` What would women do if headaches had never been invented , St. George ? But never mind , Saint . We 'll just wink the other eye for a few weeks .
I admit I do n't feel comfortable myself , XXXXX .
Cecilia George Meredith Rosemary Saint entreaty evening humankind left weeks