sake, for your own sake, Nita, don't let it go any
further--_don't_ fall in love--here--whatever you do."

The younger sister stood at the dressing table at the moment, her face
averted. The Mary Powell was just rounding the Point, and the mellow,
melodious notes of her bell were still echoing through the Highlands.
Nita was gazing out on the gorgeous effect of sunset light and shadow on
the eastern cliffs and crags across the Hudson, a flush as vivid mantling
her cheeks, her lip quivering. She was making valiant efforts to control
herself before replying.

"I'm _not_ in love with him," she finally said.

"Perhaps not--yet. Surely I hope not, but it looked awfully like it was
coming--and Nita, you simply mustn't. You've got to marry money if I have
to stand guard over you and see you do it--and you know you can this
minute--if you'll only listen."

The younger girl wheeled sharply, her eyes flashing. "Peggy, you promised
me I shouldn't hear that hateful thing again--at least not until we left
here--and you've broken your word--twice. You----"

"It's because I must. I can't see you drifting--the way I did when, with
your youth and--advantages you can pick and choose. Colonel Frost has
mines and money all over the West, and he was your shadow at the
seashore, and all broken up--he told me--so when we came here. Paddy
Latrobe is a beautiful boy without a penny--"

"His uncle--" began Nita feebly.

"His uncle had a sister to support besides Paddy's mother. His pay as
brigadier in the regular service is only fifty-five hundred. He _can't_
have saved much of anything in the past, and he may last a dozen years
yet--or more. Even if he does leave everything then to Latrobe, what'll
you do meantime? Don't be a fool, Nita, because I was. I _had_ to be. It
was that or nothing, and father was getting tired. _You_ heard how he
talked."

The younger sister was still at the dressing-table diligently brushing
her shining, curly tresses. She had regained her composure and was taking
occasional furtive peeps at Mrs. Frank, now seated at the foot of the
bed, busy with a buttonhook and the adjustment of a pair of very dainty
boots of white kid, whose buttons gleamed like pearls. The mates to them,
half a size smaller, peeped from the tray of Nita's new trunk.

There came a footstep and a rap at the door. "See what it is, Nita,
there's a love--I don't want to hop."

It was a card--a new arrival at the hotel.

"Gentleman said he