t and Maria when they were coming out of church, so
that no boy would ask leave to go home with her. She clung to the
girls in her class for protection when she went to any entertainment.
Consequently her beautiful face, about which clustered her dark, fine
hair like mist, aroused no envy. The other girls said that Evelyn
Edgham was such a beauty and she did not know it. But Evelyn did know
it perfectly, only at that time it filled her with a sort of timidity
and shame. It was as if she held some splendid, heavy sword of
victory which she had not the courage to wield. She loved her sister
better than anybody else. She had no very intimate friend of her own
sex with whom she fell in love, after the fashion of most young
girls. That might have happened had it not been for her sister, whom
Evelyn thought of always as excelling everybody else in beauty and
goodness and general brilliancy. Maria, when nearing thirty, was, in
fact, as handsome as she had ever been. Her self-control had kept
lines from her face. She was naturally healthy, and she, as well as
Evelyn, had by nature a disposition to make the most of herself and a
liking for adornment. Aunt Maria often told Eunice that Maria was
full as good-looking as Evelyn, if she was older, but that was not
quite true. Maria had never had Evelyn's actual beauty, her
perfection as of a perfect flower; still she was charming, and she
had admirers, whom she always checked, although her aunt became more
and more distressed that she did so. Always at the bottom of Maria's
heart lay her secret. It was not a guilty secret. It was savored more
of the absurd of tragedy than anything else. Sometimes Maria herself
fairly laughed at the idea that she was married. All this time she
wondered about Wollaston Lee. She thought, with a sick terror, of the
possibility of his falling in love, and wishing to marry, and trying
to secure a divorce, and the horrible publicity, and what people
would say and do. She knew that a divorce would be necessary,
although the marriage was not in reality a marriage at all. She had
made herself sufficiently acquainted with the law to be sure that a
divorce would be absolutely necessary in order for either herself or
Wollaston Lee to marry again. For herself, she did not wish to marry,
but she did wonder uneasily with regard to him. She was not in the
least jealous; all her old, childish fancy for him had been killed by
that strenuous marriage ceremony, but she dr