king up, spoke with a touch of reluctance.

"I dare say you can answer me a question I should like to ask you?" she
said.

"If it is about Mollie, I think I can," Aimee returned.

"You have been with her so long," Polly went on, two tiny lines showing
themselves upon _her_ forehead this time, "and you are so quick at
seeing things, that you must know what there is to know. And yet it
hardly seems fair to ask. Ralph Gowan goes to Bloomsbury Place often,
does he not?"

"He goes very often, and he seems to care more for Mollie than for any
of the rest of us."

"Aimee," Dolly said next, "does--this is my question--does Mollie care
for him?"

"Yes, she does," answered Aimee. "She cares for him so much that she is
making herself miserable about him."

"Oh, dear!" cried Dolly. "What--"

Aimee interrupted her.

"And that is not the worst. The fact is, Dolly, I don't know what to
make of her. If it was any one but Mollie, or if Mollie was a bit less
innocent and impetuous, I should not be so much afraid; but sometimes
she is angry with herself, and sometimes she is angry with him, and
sometimes she is both, and then I should not be surprised at her doing
anything innocent and frantic. Poor child! It is my impression she has
about half made up her mind to the desperate resolve of making a grand
marriage. She said as much the other night, and I think that is why she
encourages Mr. Chandos."

"Oh, dear," cried Dolly, again. "And does she think he wants to marry
her?"

"She knows he makes violent love to her, and she is not worldly-wise
enough to know that Lord Burleighs are out of date."

"Out of date!" said Dolly; "I doubt if they ever were in date. Men like
Mr. Gerald Chandos would hesitate at marrying Venus from Bloomsbury
Place."

"If it was Ralph Gowan," suggested Aimee.

"But Ralph Gowan is n't like Chandos," Dolly returned, astutely. "He is
worth ten thousand of him. I wish he would fall in love with Mollie and
marry her. Poor Mollie! Poor, pretty, headlong little goose! What are we
to do with her?"

"Mr. Gowan is very fond of her, in a way," said Aimee. "If he did not
care a little for you--"

"I wish he did not!" sighed Dolly. "But it serves me right," with
candor. "He would never have thought of me again if I--well, if I had
n't found things so dreadfully dull at that Bilberry clan gathering."

"'If,'" moralized Aimee, significantly. "'If' is n't a wise word, and it
often gets you into trouble, Dol