eet her glance--
so fresh, so bright, full of such dazzling youth and vigour! True,
Mollie had been lazing all the evening while the others worked; but as
Ruth stood looking down at her she wondered for the hundredth time how
it was that so little was made of Mollie's beauty in comparison with her
own.

The golden hair rippled back in a thick, soft wave; the grey eyes were
large, and generously lashed; the laughing lips parted, to show white,
even, little teeth; yet a stranger, looking for the first time at Mollie
Farrell, rarely remarked upon her good looks.

"What a nice girl! What a dear girl! What a delightful creature!" they
cried, according to their different degrees of enthusiasm. They wanted
to know her, to have her for a friend, and forgot to think of mere
outward appearance.

"What a noise you have been making, Ruth!" said Mollie lazily. "I can't
think why you can't be quiet when you get a chance! This book is too
exciting for words. I told you how the lovers quarrelled just after
they were married, and he went abroad, thinking, of course, that she
didn't love him any more; while, of course, she simply adored the ground
he trod on, but thought that he had grown tired of her, while he was
more madly in--"

Ruth gave an exclamation of impatience.

"Oh, what rubbish! I don't believe such things are possible! If they
really loved each other, do you suppose they could keep on pretending
while they lived together every day, and when it came to saying good-bye
into the bargain? Nonsense! She'd break down and howl, and he would
comfort her, and take off his coat. Look here, Mollie--go to bed! I've
waited all the evening to have a talk with mother, and you are the only
impediment left. Take your book with you if you like,--but go!"

Mollie rose, unwillingly enough.

"I know what you want to talk about," she said, looking into Ruth's
face. "I know; and it's not a mite of use. Mother won't let you leave
home; she needs you far too much. I shan't go to sleep, for I shall
want to hear every single word when you come upstairs. I'll snoodle up
to the hot bottle, and read till you come."

The programme sounded very attractive,--to snoodle up to the hot bottle,
and lie at ease reading an interesting book,--much more attractive than
to linger downstairs by the dying fire, and discuss disagreeable
problems with an anxious mother. But Ruth did not waver in her
decision, and a few moments later Mrs Con