My father was a
lawyer, but he didn't have a large practice, and when he died he left
nothing but his insurance. It was very little--not enough to live on,
and mother, with us two girls to look after, had to do something
practical, so she opened a small millinery store."

"The right spirit," he said approvingly.

"It was a grim, hard struggle, particularly at first," she went on.
"My sister Fanny had left school, and was able to help her, and then
it wasn't quite so trying. You see, Fanny didn't care for school."

"But you did?"

"Yes," she said with enthusiasm, "I always loved it. Mother knew it,
and insisted that I should go through High School. I was delighted,
for I didn't realize then what struggles and sacrifices it meant for
her, and here is the irony--the tragedy--of it all. I was selected as
the class orator at our graduating exercises, and mother was very
happy over it. She looked forward to it as one of the days of her
life, and started to make my graduating dress--but never finished it!"
Very softly she murmured: "Poor mother!"

Never had she looked so pretty as at this moment when, her face pale
and thoughtful, her eyes dimmed with tears, she called up memories of
the past. Stafford, his gaze intent on her, said gently:

"You have her memory."

"Yes," she murmured, "it is more to me than anything in the
world--except Fanny."

"You love your sister, I know," he said.

"Of course I do," she replied quickly. "She took mother's place--as
much as any one could--and, except on our vacations, we have never
been separated."

"You soon will be though, won't you?"

She looked up at him in surprise, not understanding.

"How?" she demanded.

"Didn't you tell me that your sister was going to be married?"

Virginia laughed, a low, musical laugh, which charmed him.

"Yes," she said, "that's true. They are to be married next month."
Sadly she added: "I shall miss her very much. Yet I shan't mind that
kind of separation--if she's happy."

Stafford smiled. Quietly he said:

"That's the trouble with matrimony--that great, big little word--if."

"Oh," she interrupted quickly. "I feel sure they'll be happy. Theirs
is a marriage for love."

Looking closely at her, he asked: "Do you believe in love?"

"Of course," she answered, raising her cup to her face to hide her
embarrassment.

"What kind of love?" he persisted.

"Real love."

"What do you call real love?"

She opened her eyes wide, as if gre