sake, let us
have peace!" It was easier to walk a dozen yards into the drawing-room,
than to be talked at for the rest of the meal. Mary obeyed, swallowing
a constant mental revolt, the strain of which showed in her wan
bloodless face. Long ago, when she was twenty-four, she had loved a
curate, and the curate had not loved her in return. No man had ever
loved her; it was to the last degree unlikely that anyone ever would.
Mary offered automatic thanks weekly for the gift of creation, and
smothered as wicked the wonder what she had been created for? She also,
like her mother, wondered drearily what troubles lay ahead.

Teresa was young, and pretty, and had been educated at a public school.
She had inherited from her mother a fair skin, flaxen locks, a strong
will, and a pertinacity of purpose which might in time develop to
disagreeable proportions. In the meantime she was the admired youngest
member of a plain and heavy family, and was by nature affectionate and
appreciative. It was only on occasions that Mrs Mallison was conscious
of running up against a dead rock when she opposed her will to that of
her youngest daughter; only in glimmering rays of light that she
realised that what Teresa desired, almost inevitably came to pass. Over
and over again the same thing happened. Teresa had come forward with a
proposition: consent had been withheld, Teresa had withdrawn. Weeks,
even months had passed by; to all appearance Teresa had abandoned the
proposition, and then suddenly it crystallised, it became fact.
Quietly, placidly, Teresa had bided her time, clinging with limpet-like
determination to her point, moving the pawns on the board, waiting for
the right moment to make the final dash.

Teresa had left the proud position of head girl in a great school to
vegetate in a dull country town, dust the drawing-room, arrange flowers,
make her own blouses, and "keep up her music," and had found the routine
as unsatisfactory as does every other modern girl. The Mallisons were
comfortably off--that is to say, they had a small detached house, in a
good-sized garden, kept two indoor maids, and a man who looked after the
garden and drove the shabby dog-cart. They were also able to pay their
bills with praiseworthy regularity, and to take a yearly holiday _en
famille_. They likewise allowed each daughter thirty pounds a year for
dress and pocket money, and would have strongly resented an insinuation
that they were not act