The doctor says that will be the best thing
for him."

"I blame Dr. Gale very much," interrupted Marion.

"I don't think you need," rejoined Philippa with a little smile, "the
poor man is quite penitent enough already. And, indeed, although he
had something to do with it at first, he has nothing to do with it now.
He took much the same line as you do when it came to the question of
marriage, but I explained to him that it was my affair, and no one
else's. Marion, it is not as if I was a child. I am of an age to
decide for myself. And, of course, the doctor was only thinking of me.
He knows well enough that it is the best possible thing for Francis.
Don't look so dreadfully unhappy!" she said in a lighter tone, for
Marion's pretty round face was flushed and drawn and her eyes were full
of tears. "Dear," she added affectionately, "if you knew how happy I
was, I think you would rejoice, and not be so full of dismal
forebodings. I love him and he loves me, and nothing else matters."

Marion's face paled. It was an effort to speak the words which had
been on her lips for some moments, for to her it seemed that they must
deal Philippa a blow which she would thankfully have spared her, a blow
which must surely dissolve the girl's castle of dreams into dust. But
she did not flinch.

"He does not love you," she said sternly.

Philippa started; then she gave a low laugh of content.

"Ah," she said with a tender smile, "you do not know--how should
you?--how great a love he has for me."

"He does not love you. It is not you he loves," continued Marion
relentlessly. "Oh, my dear! my dear! can you not see your mistake? It
is you who do not understand. His love is not for you. Every word of
love he speaks, every bit of the love in his heart belongs to another
woman. He does not think of you. You are not in it at all, or if you
are, you are only a supplanter taking what is not meant for you."

Marion was crying openly now, the tears coursing unheeded down her
cheeks, but Philippa did not notice them. She did not seem to have
heard, she was gazing out of the window, intent only on her thoughts,
and from the expression on her face those thoughts were very tender,
very sweet. And in the little pause that followed, Marion laid down
her weapons, knowing they were useless. Her last shot had failed, and
there was nothing in her armoury that would pierce the armour of the
girl's conviction. She had no power to forb