a put down the photograph and straightened her back. She thought of
her sister alone for the last time in her big flowery bedroom, lying
down for the last time in the rose-curtained, mahogany bed, for her last
night's rest under Ansdore's roof. It was the night on which, if she had
not been motherless, her mother would have gone to her with love and
advice. Surely on this night of all nights it was not for Joanna to
shirk the mother's part.

Her heaviness had gone, for its secret cause had been displayed--no
doubt this anxiety and this question had lurked with her all the
evening, following her from room to room. She did not hesitate, but went
down the passage to Ellen's door, which she opened as usual without
knocking.

"Not in bed, yet, duckie?"

Ellen was sitting on the bolster, in her little old plain linen
nightdress buttoning to her neck, two long plaits hanging over her
shoulders. The light of the rose-shaded lamp streamed on the flowery
walls and floor of her compulsory bower, showing the curtains and
pictures and vases and father's Buffalo certificate--showing also her
packed and corded trunks, lying there like big, blobbed seals on her
articles of emancipation.

"Hullo," she said to Joanna, "I'm just going to get in." She did not
seem particularly pleased to see her.

"You pop under the clothes, and I'll tuck you up. There's something I
want to speak to you about if you ain't too sleepy."

"About what?"

"About this wedding of yours."

"You've spoken to me about nothing else for weeks and months."

"But I want to speak to you different and most particular. Duckie, are
you quite sure you love Arthur Alce?"

"Of course I'm sure, or I shouldn't be marrying him."

"There's an unaccountable lot of reasons why any gal ud snap at Arthur.
He's got a good name and a good establishment, and he's as mild-mannered
and obliging as a cow."

Ellen looked disconcerted at hearing her bridegroom thus defined.

"If that's all I saw in him I shouldn't have said 'yes.' I like
him--he's got a kind heart and good manners, and he won't interfere with
me--he'll let me do as I please."

"But that ain't enough--it ain't enough for you just to like him. Do you
love him?--It's struck me all of a sudden, Ellen, I've never made sure
of that, and it ud be a lamentable job if you was to get married to
Arthur without loving him."

"But I do love him--I've told you. And may I ask, Jo, what you'd have
done if I'd said I didn'