You want to be ` Mrs. ' -- you are one of those weak-minded women who think it 's a disgrace to be ranked as an old maid . That 's all there is to it . '' Rosemary quivered . Ellen could not , or would not , understand . There was no use arguing with her . `` So you wo n't release me , Ellen ? '' `` No , I wo n't . And I wo n't talk of it again . You promised and you 've got to keep your word . That 's all . Go to bed . Look at the time ! You 're all romantic and worked up . To-morrow you 'll be more sensible . At any rate , do n't let me hear any more of this nonsense . Go . '' Rosemary went without another word , pale and spiritless . Ellen walked stormily about the room for a few minutes , then paused before the chair where St. George had been calmly sleeping through the whole evening . A reluctant smile overspread her dark face . There had been only one time in her life -- the time of her mother 's death -- when Ellen had not been able to temper tragedy with comedy .
Even XXXXX that long ago bitterness , when Norman Douglas had , after a fashion , jilted her , she had laughed at herself quite as often as she had cried .
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