you accepted him! Oh, Phyllis!"

The younger sister looked at her with eyes of wide astonishment, almost
of reproach. They were two of a family of ten; a country clergyman's
family that had for its support something under three hundred pounds a
year. Phyllis, the eldest girl, worked for her living as a private
secretary and had only lately returned home for a brief holiday.

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 parti