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Lord Wyverton, who had seen her once or twice in town, had actually followed her thither to pursue his courtship. She had not believed herself to be the attraction. She had persistently refused to believe him to be in earnest until that afternoon, when the unbelievable thing had actually happened and he had definitely asked her to be his wife. Even then, sitting alone with her sister in the bedroom they shared, she could scarcely bring herself to realize what had happened to her.

“Yes,” she said; “I accepted him of course–of course. My dear Molly, how could I refuse?”

Molly made no reply, but her silence was somehow tragic.

“Think of mother,” the elder girl went on, “and the children. How could I possibly refuse–even if I wanted?”

“Yes,” said Molly; “I see. But I quite thought you were in love with Jim Freeman.”

In the silence that followed this blunt speech she turned to look searchingly at her sister. Molly was just twenty, and she did the entire work of the household with sturdy goodwill. She possessed beauty that was unusual. They were a good-looking family, and she was the fairest of them all. Her eyes were dark and very shrewd, under their straight black brows; her face was delicate in colouring and outline; her hair was red-gold and abundant. Moreover, she was clever in a strictly practical sense. She enjoyed life in spite of straitened circumstances. And she possessed a serenity of temperament that no amount of adversity ever seemed to ruffle.

Having obtained the desired glimpse of her sister’s face, she returned without comment to the very worn stocking that she was repairing.

“I had a talk with Jim Freeman the other day,” she said. “He was driving the old doctor’s dog-cart and going to see a patient. He offered me a lift.”

“Oh!” Phyllis’s tone was carefully devoid of interest. She also took up a stocking from the pile at her sister’s elbow and began to work.

“I asked him how he was getting on,” Molly continued. “He said that Dr. Finsbury was awfully good to him, and treated him almost like a son. He asked very particularly after you; and when I told him you were coming home he said that he should try and manage to come over and see you. But he is evidently beginning to be rather important, and he can’t get away very easily. He asked a good many questions about you, and wanted to know if I thought you were happy and well.”

“I see.” Again the absence of interest in Phyllis’s tone was so marked as to be almost unnatural.

Molly dismissed the subject with a far better executed air of indifference.

“And you are really going to marry Earl Wyverton,” she said. “How nice, Phyl! Did he make love to you?”

There was a distinct pause before Phyllis replied. “No. There was no need.”

“He didn’t!” ejaculated Molly.

“I didn’t encourage him to,” Phyllis confessed. “He went away directly after. He said he should come to-morrow and see dad.”

“I suppose he’s frightfully rich?” said Molly, reflectively.

“Enormously, I believe.” A deep red flush rose in Phyllis’s face. She had begun to tremble again in spite of herself. Molly suddenly dropped her work and leaned forward.

“Phyl, Phyl,” she said, softly; “shall I tell you what Jim Freeman said to me that day? He said that very soon he should be able to support a wife–and I knew quite well what he meant. I told him I was glad–so glad. Oh, Phyl, darling, when he comes and asks you to go to him, what will you say?”

Phyllis looked up with quick protest on her lips. She wrung her hands together with a despairing gesture.

“Molly, Molly,” she gasped, “don’t torture me! How can I help it? How can I help it? I shall have to send him away.”

“Oh, poor darling!” Molly said. “Poor, poor darling!”

And she gathered her sister into her arms, pressing her close to her heart with a passionate fondness of which only a few knew her to be capable. There was only a year between them, and Molly had always been the leading spirit, protector and comforter by turns.