might be" of life--to help her to endure it! With a
little stifled cry she sprang up and began pacing the room
restlessly--up and down, up and down, her slim hands clenching and
unclenching as she walked.

Presently--she could, not have told whether it was five minutes or five
hours later--she heard the click of a latch-key in the lock. At the
sound, the imperative need for self-control rushed over her. Penelope,
of all people, must never know--never guess that she wasn't happy in
her engagement to Roger. She didn't intend to spoil Penny's own
happiness by the faintest cloud of worry on her account.

She snatched up the prayer-book she had let fall and switching off the
lights, dropped down on the hearthrug just as Penelope came in, fresh
and glowing, from her walk.

"All in the dark?" she queried as she entered. "You look like a kitten
curled up by the fire." She stooped and kissed Nan with unwonted
tenderness. Then she turned up the lights and drew the curtains across
the window, shutting out the grey October twilight.

"Penny," said Nan, fingering the prayer-book, "have you ever read the
marriage service?"

Penelope's face lightened with a sudden radiance.

"Yes, isn't it beautiful?"

Nan stared at her.

"Beautiful?" She gave an odd little laugh. "It sounds to me much more
like a commination service. Doesn't it frighten you?"

"Not a bit." Penelope's serenely happy eyes confirmed her quick denial.

"Well"--Nan regarded her contemplatively--"it rubs in all the dreadful
things that may happen to you--like ill-health, and poverty, and 'for
worse'--whatever that may mean--and dins into your ears the fact that
nothing but death can release you."

"You're looking at the wrong side of it, Nan. It seems to me to show
just exactly _how much_ a husband and wife may be to each other, and
how--together--they can face all the ills that flesh is heir to."

"Reminds one of a visit to the dentist--you can screw your courage up
more easily if someone goes with you," remarked Nan grimly.

"You're simply determined to look on the ugly side of things,"
protested Penelope.

"And yet, Penny dear, at one time you used to scold me for being too
idealistic in my notions!"

But Penelope declined to shift from her present standpoint.

"And now you're expecting so little that, when your turn comes, you'll
be beautifully disappointed," she remarked as she left the room in
order to finish some odds and ends of pack