Imogen by Mary Louisa Molesworth — Read

But the reassuring thrill lasted barely a moment. Suddenly, as Imogen walked on, feeling that every step was bringing the meeting nearer, a terrible, agonising rush of shyness and shame overwhelmed her. For the first time she realised that she was going, unbidden, uninvited, to seek an interview with this man whose position to herself was still so undefined, whose conduct had been so inexplicable! She, who had so proudly declared to her mother that not one finger would she move to influence him, were it the case that he had acted upon an impulse which he had afterwards regretted! It was all Trixie's doing, she said to herself. Not that Trixie had suggested her taking Florence's place, but she had alluded to the thing so simply, as if it were the most natural idea in the world to go to meet Rex on his way up.

"Florence would have given anything to go; she likes to get Rex to herself for a good talk. I wish he didn't hate _me_ so, for I'd like a good talk with him myself. I'm getting rather sick of his seeing everything through Florrie's eyes. " And the chance had seemed so opportune that Imogen had seized it -- in her eagerness to get the meeting over, to come to an explanation before her mother could complicate things by any interference -- without realising the difference between _her_ position and Florence's.