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 , George . I feel as if I had drowned a kitten . But she promised , Saint -- and she was the one to offer it , George . Bismillah ! '' CHAPTER XXIII .
THE GOOD-CONDUCT CLUB A light rain had been falling all day -- a little , delicate , beautiful spring rain , that somehow seemed XXXXX hint and whisper of mayflowers and wakening violets .
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