Molly dismissed the subject with a far better executed air of indifference.

“And you are really going to marry Earl Wyverton,” she said.  “How nice, Phyl!  Did he make love to you?”

There was a distinct pause before Phyllis replied.  “No.  There was no need.”

“He didn’t!” ejaculated Molly.

“I didn’t encourage him to,” Phyllis confessed.  “He went away directly after.  He said he should come to-morrow and see dad.”

“I suppose he’s frightfully rich?” said Molly, reflectively.

“Enormously, I believe.”  A deep red flush rose in Phyllis’s face.  She had begun to tremble again in spite of herself.  Molly suddenly dropped her work and leaned forward.

“Phyl, Phyl,” she said, softly; “shall I tell you what Jim Freeman said to me that day?  He said that very soon he should be able to support a wife—­and I knew quite well what he meant.  I told him I was glad—­so glad.  Oh, Phyl, darling, when he comes and asks you to go to him, what will you say?”

Phyllis looked up with quick protest on her lips.  She wrung her hands together with a despairing gesture.

“Molly, Molly,” she gasped, “don’t torture me!  How can I help it?  How can I help it?  I shall have to send him away.”

“Oh, poor darling!” Molly said.  “Poor, poor darling!”

And she gathered her sister into her arms, pressing her close to her heart with a passionate fondness of which only a few knew her to be capable.  There was only a year between them, and Molly had always been the leading spirit, protector and comforter by turns.

Even as she soothed and hushed Phyllis into calmness her quick brain was at work upon the situation.  There must be a way of escape somewhere.  Of that she was convinced.  There always was a way of escape.  But for the time at least it baffled her.  Her own acquaintance with Wyverton was very slight.  She wished ardently that she knew what manner of man he was at heart.

Upon one point at least she was firmly determined.  This monstrous sacrifice must not take place, even were it to ensure the whole family welfare.  The life they lived was desperately difficult, but Phyllis must not be allowed to ruin her own life’s happiness and another’s also to ease the burden.

But what a pity it seemed!  What a pity!  Why in wonder was Fate so perverse?  Molly thought.  Such a brilliant chance offered to herself would have turned the whole world into a gilded dreamland.  For she was wholly heart-free.

The idea was a fascinating one.  It held her fancy strongly.  She began to wonder if he cared very deeply for her sister, or if mere looks had attracted him.

She had good looks too, she reflected.  And she was quick to learn, adaptable.  The thought rushed through her mind like a meteor through space.  He might be willing.  He might be kind.  He had a look about his eyes—­a quizzical look—­that certainly suggested possibilities.  But dare she put it to the test?  Dare she actually interfere in the matter?