leant forward, most intense in her explanation, "Joan thought,
and thought and thought, till she was really silly with thinking. He had
told her he was coming here on Monday to ask her to marry him, and she
loved him. I should have held my tongue about things, or whispered them
to him as I lay in his arms, holding on to him so that he could not
push me away, but Joan isn't my sort. She just couldn't bear to tell
him, I guess she was afraid to see his face alter and grow hard. Do you
blame her because she was afraid? I don't really know the rest of the
story," she finished, "because I was away, but I think Joan got hold of
the silly notion that the best thing to do was to have another man
hanging about here when Dr. Grant called. She thought it would make him
angry, and that he would change his mind about wanting to marry her on
the spot. And she pretty well succeeded. I had just got back and was
standing in the hall, when Dr. Grant got back from her room and went
out. He did not notice me, his face was set white and stern like
people's faces are when they have just had to shoot a dog they loved.
The other man meant nothing to her, nothing; why she hasn't even seen
him for months, and she never liked him. Oh, can't you explain to your
brother, he would listen to you." She put her hand on Mabel's knee in
her earnestness and pulled herself a little nearer. "It's breaking both
their hearts, and it's all such a silly mistake."

"Are you not asking rather a lot from me?" Mabel said quietly; she met
the other's eyes frankly. "Putting aside all ideas, moral or immoral,
don't you understand that it is only natural that I should want my
brother to marry some girl who had not been through all that Miss
Rutherford has?"

The quick tears sprang to Fanny's eyes. "If he loves her," she claimed,
"is not that all that matters?"

"He may love again," Mabel reminded her.

Fanny withdrew her hand and stayed quiet, looking down at the ground,
blinking back her tears. "You won't help," she said presently. "I see
what you mean, it doesn't matter to you what happens to her." She lifted
her head defiantly and sprang to her feet. "Well, it doesn't matter, not
very much. I believe in love more than you do, it seems, for I do not
believe that your brother will love again, and sooner or later he will
come back to her." She paused in her declamation and glanced at Mabel.
"Is he going to the War?" she asked quickly.

"Yes," Mabel assented; she h