Von Rosen glanced at Annie with an inquiring expression.  He wondered whether she wished him to announce their engagement to her aunt.  The amazing suddenness of it all had begun to daunt him.  He was in considerable doubt as to what Miss Harriet Eustace, who was a most conservative lady, who had always done exactly the things which a lady under similar circumstances might be expected to do, who always said the things to be expected, would say to this, which must, of course, savour very much of the unexpected.  Von Rosen was entirely sure that Miss Harriet Eustace would be scarcely able to conceive of a marriage engagement of her niece especially with a clergyman without all the formal preliminaries of courtship, and he knew well that preliminaries had hardly existed, in the usual sense of the term.  He felt absurdly shy, and he was very much relieved when finally Miss Harriet and Annie took their leave and he had said nothing about the engagement.  Miss Harriet said a great deal about his most interesting and improving collection.  She was a woman of a patronising turn of mind and she made Von Rosen feel like a little boy.

“I especially appreciate the favour for the sake of my niece,” she said.  “It is so desirable for the minds of the young to be improved.”  Von Rosen murmured a polite acquiescence.  She had spoken of his tall, lovely girl as if she were in short skirts.  Miss Harriet continued: 

“When I consider what Mrs. Edes has done,” she said,—­“written a book which has made her famous, I realise how exceedingly important it is for the minds of the young to be improved.  It is good for Annie to know Mrs. Edes so intimately, I think.”

For the first time poor Annie was conscious of a distinct sense of wrath.  Here she herself had written that book and her mind, in order to have written it, must be every whit as improved as Margaret Edes’ and her Aunt Harriet was belittling her before her lover.  It was a struggle to maintain silence, especially as her aunt went on talking in a still more exasperating manner.

“I always considered Mrs. Wilbur Edes as a very unusual woman,” said she, “but of course, this was unexpected.  I am so thankful that Annie has the great honour of her friendship.  Of course, Annie can never do what Mrs. Edes has done.  She herself knows that she lacks talent and also concentration.  Annie, you know you have never finished that daisy centre piece which you begun surely six months ago.  I am quite sure that Mrs. Edes would have finished it in a week.”

Annie did lose patience at that.  “Margaret just loathes fancy work, Aunt Harriet,” said she.  “She would never even have begun that centre piece.”

“It is much better never to begin a piece of work than never to finish it,” replied Aunt Harriet, “and Mrs. Edes, my dear, has been engaged in much more important work.  If you had written a book which had made you famous, no one could venture to complain of your lack of industry with regard to the daisy centre piece.  But I am sure that Mrs. Edes, in order to have written that book of which everybody is talking, must have displayed much industry and concentration in all the minor matters of life.  I think you must be mistaken, my dear.  I am quite sure that Mrs. Edes has not neglected work.”