“What have you got against Victoria?” he asked, tolerantly.

Eunice had no answer ready.  It was true that nothing could be said against the girl.  She felt helpless and baffled.  Christopher laughed at her silence.

“I guess you’re a little jealous,” he said.  “You must have expected I would get married some time.  This house is big enough for us all.  You’d better look at the matter sensibly, Eunice.  Don’t let Charles and Caroline put nonsense into your head.  A man must marry to please himself.”

Christopher was out late that night.  Eunice waited up for him, as she always did.  It was a chilly spring evening, reminding her of the night her mother had died.  The kitchen was in spotless order, and she sat down on a stiff-backed chair by the window to wait for her brother.

She did not want a light.  The moonlight fell in with faint illumination.  Outside, the wind was blowing over a bed of new-sprung mint in the garden, and was suggestively fragrant.  It was a very old-fashioned garden, full of perennials Naomi Holland had planted long ago.  Eunice always kept it primly neat.  She had been working in it that day, and felt tired.

She was all alone in the house and the loneliness filled her with a faint dread.  She had tried all that day to reconcile herself to Christopher’s marriage, and had partially succeeded.  She told herself that she could still watch over him and care for his comfort.  She would even try to love Victoria; after all, it might be pleasant to have another woman in the house.  So, sitting there, she fed her hungry soul with these husks of comfort.

When she heard Christopher’s step she moved about quickly to get a light.  He frowned when he saw her; he had always resented her sitting up for him.  He sat down by the stove and took off his boots, while Eunice got a lunch for him.  After he had eaten it in silence he made no move to go to bed.  A chill, premonitory fear crept over Eunice.  It did not surprise her at all when Christopher finally said, abruptly, “Eunice, I’ve a notion to get married this spring.”

Eunice clasped her hands together under the table.  It was what she had been expecting.  She said so, in a monotonous voice.

“We must make some arrangement for—­for you, Eunice,” Christopher went on, in a hurried, hesitant way, keeping his eyes riveted doggedly on his plate.  “Victoria doesn’t exactly like—­well, she thinks it’s better for young married folks to begin life by themselves, and I guess she’s about right.  You wouldn’t find it comfortable, anyhow, having to step back to second place after being mistress here so long.”

Eunice tried to speak, but only an indistinct murmur came from her bloodless lips.  The sound made Christopher look up.  Something in her face irritated him.  He pushed back his chair impatiently.

“Now, Eunice, don’t go taking on.  It won’t be any use.  Look at this business in a sensible way.  I’m fond of you, and all that, but a man is bound to consider his wife first.  I’ll provide for you comfortably.”