not knowing how to remedy it. Daisy saw her mistake.

"Then you did know that it was possible he would ask me to marry him,"
she said. "I wondered if you knew that. It makes it complete now I know
that you did. So it comes to this, that you cut me out just in order to
flirt with him. Thank you, Aunt Jeannie, thank you."

And then there came into Daisy's voice what Jeannie dreaded to hear; the
hard tone of anger died out of it, it became gentle, and it became
miserable. She sat down at Jeannie's writing-table, covering her face
with her hands.

"Oh, I beseech you," she said, "cannot you undo the spell that you cast
so easily? Oh, Aunt Jeannie, do, do; and I will forget all that has
happened, and--and love you again. I want to do that. But I loved him;
it was only quite lately I knew that, but it is so. Have you not enough?
Isn't it enough that you will marry the man you love? I did not think
you could be so cruel. Do you hate me, or what is it?"

Jeannie made a little hopeless gesture with her hands.

"Oh, Daisy, I didn't know that you loved him," she said. "Indeed, I did
not. But, my dear, he did not love you. How could he have if he behaved
as he has behaved?"

"You made him," said Daisy. "You----" Then once again anger flamed into
her voice. "Ah, what a true friend you have been to me!" she said. "Were
you as true a friend to Diana too?"

She had taken up one of the photographs, that which represented her and
Diana together.

"Here we are together," she said, "and we thank you. Here is Diana
by herself----"

And then she stopped abruptly. Her eye had fallen on the photograph
of Diana which she had given only last year to Jeannie. It was
signed "Diana, 1907." She drew it out of its frame.

"Aunt Jeannie," she said, quickly, "in what year did Diana die?"

Jeannie turned to her suddenly at this most unexpected question, and saw
what it was that Daisy held in her hand. She made a desperate effort to
turn Daisy's attention away at any cost.

"Daisy, we were talking about Lord Lindfield," she said. "What reason
had he ever given you to make you think he loved you? And has he not
given you a strong reason for showing he did not?"

Daisy looked at her for a moment, and then back to the photograph.

"She died five years ago," she said. "But this is signed 1907, last
year."

Once again Jeannie tried to turn Daisy's attention.

"And if he did fall in love with me, what then?" she said. "You assume
it is all