r girl's. She had not the
least realization of how Maria was suffering, lying in her room
directly overhead.

Maria suffered as she had never suffered before. George Ramsey was
her first love; the others had been merely childish playthings. She
was strangling love, and that is a desperate deed, and the strangler
suffers more than love. Maria, with the memory of that marriage which
was, indeed, no marriage, but the absurd travesty of one, upon her,
was in almost a suicidal frame of mind. She knew perfectly well that
if it had not been for that marriage secret which she held always in
mind, that George Ramsey would continue to call, that they would
become engaged, that her life might be like other women's. And now he
was down there with Lily--Lily, in her green gown. She knew just how
Lily would look at him, with her beautiful, soft eyes. She hated her,
and yet she hated herself more than she hated her. She told herself
that she had no good reason for hating another girl for doing what
she herself had done--for falling in love with George Ramsey. She
knew that she should never have made a confidant of another girl, as
Lily had made of her. She realized a righteous contempt because of
her weakness, and yet she felt that Lily was the normal girl, that
nine out of ten would do exactly what she had done. And she also had
a sort of pity for her. She could not quite believe that a young man
like George Ramsey could like Lily, who, however beautiful she was,
was undeniably silly. But then she reflected how young men were
popularly supposed not to mind a girl's being silly if she was
beautiful. Then she ceased to pity Lily, and hated her again. She
became quite convinced that George Ramsey would marry her.

She had locked her door, and lay on her bed fully dressed. She made
up her mind that when Aunt Maria came she would pretend to be asleep.
She felt that she could not face Aunt Maria's wondering questions.
Then she reflected that Aunt Maria would be home soon, and a
malicious joy seized her that Lily would not have George Ramsey long
to herself. Indeed, it was scarcely half-past eight before Maria
heard the side-door open. Then she heard, quite distinctly, Aunt
Maria's voice, although she could not distinguish the words. Maria
laughed a little, smothered, hysterical laugh at the absurdity of the
situation.

It was, in fact, ludicrous. Aunt Maria entered the sitting-room, a
grotesque figure in her black skirt bundled up unde