“He’s very good-looking,” she admitted, in a critical tone.  “Very.”

“Not the sort of man you thought,” emphasised Jenny, keenly elated at Emmy’s dilemma.

“Is he ... has he got any money?”

“Never asked him.  No—­I don’t think he has.  It wasn’t his chauffeur.  A lord’s.”

“There!  He knows lords....  Oh, Jenny!” Emmy’s tone was still one of warning.  “He won’t marry you.  I’m sure he won’t.”

“Yes he will,” Jenny said confidently.  But the excitement had shaken her, and she was not the firm Jenny of custom.  She looked imploringly at Emmy. “Say you believe it!” she begged.  Emmy returned her urgent gaze, and felt Jenny’s arm round her.  Their two faces were very close.  “You’d have done the same,” Jenny urged.

Something in her tone awakened a suspicion in Emmy’s mind.  She tried to see what lay behind those glowing mysteries that were so close to hers.  Her own eyes were shining as if from an inner brightness.  The sisters, so unlike, so inexpressibly contrary in every phase of their outlook, in every small detail of their history, had this in common—­that each, in her own manner, and with the consequences drawn from differences of character and aim, had spent happy hours with the man she loved.  What was to follow remained undetermined.  But Emmy’s heart was warmed with happiness:  she was for the first time filled only with impulses of kindness and love for Jenny.  She would blame no more for Jenny’s desertion.  It was just enough, since the consequences of that desertion had been remedied, to enhance Emmy’s sense of her own superiority.  There remained only the journey taken by Jenny.  She again took from her sister’s hand the little photograph.  Alf’s face seemed to come between the photograph and her careful, poring scrutiny, more the jealous scrutiny of a mother than that of a sister.

“He’s rather thin", Emmy ventured, dubiously.  “What colour are his eyes?”

“Blue.  And his hair’s brown....  He’s lovely.”

“He looks nice,” Emmy said, relenting.

“He is nice.  Em, dear....  Say you’d have done the same!”

Emmy gave Jenny a great hug, kissing her as if Jenny had been her little girl.  To Emmy the moment was without alloy.  Her own future assured, all else fell into the orderly picture which made up her view of life.  But she was not quite calm, and it even surprised her to feel so much warmth of love for Jenny.  Still holding her sister, she was conscious of a quick impulse that was both exulting and pathetically shy.

“It’s funny us both being happy at once.  Isn’t it!” she whispered, all sparkling.

vi

To herself Jenny groaned a sufficient retort.