ou about him?"

"He told me there was a rich fellow over in England who was crazy about
you and had asked you to marry him, and that you had turned him down."

Sally's momentary annoyance faded. She could hardly, she felt, have
expected Fillmore to refrain from mentioning the matter to his wife.

"Yes," she said. "That's true."

"You couldn't write and say you've changed your mind?"

Sally's annoyance returned. All her life she had been intensely
independent, resentful of interference with her private concerns.

"I suppose I could if I had--but I haven't. Did Fillmore tell you to try
to talk me round?"

"Oh, I'm not trying to talk you round," said Mrs. Fillmore quickly.
"Goodness knows, I'm the last person to try and jolly anyone into
marrying anybody if they didn't feel like it. I've seen too many
marriages go wrong to do that. Look at Elsa Doland."

Sally's heart jumped as if an exposed nerve had been touched.

"Elsa?" she stammered, and hated herself because her voice shook.
"Has--has her marriage gone wrong?"

"Gone all to bits," said Mrs. Fillmore shortly. "You remember she
married Gerald Foster, the man who wrote 'The Primrose Way'?"

Sally with an effort repressed an hysterical laugh.

"Yes, I remember," she said.

"Well, it's all gone bloo-ey. I'll tell you about that in a minute.
Coming back to this man in England, if you're in any doubt about it...
I mean, you can't always tell right away whether you're fond of a man or
not... When first I met Fillmore, I couldn't see him with a spy-glass,
and now he's just the whole shooting-match... But that's not what I
wanted to talk about. I was saying one doesn't always know one's
own mind at first, and if this fellow really is a good fellow... and
Fillmore tells me he's got all the money in the world..."

Sally stopped her.

"No, it's no good. I don't want to marry Mr. Carmyle."

"That's that, then," said Mrs. Fillmore. "It's a pity, though."

"Why are you taking it so much to heart?" said Sally with a nervous
laugh.

"Well..." Mrs. Fillmore paused. Sally's anxiety was growing. It must,
she realized, be something very serious indeed that had happened if it
had the power to make her forthright sister-in-law disjointed in her
talk. "You see..." went on Mrs. Fillmore, and stopped again. "Gee! I'm
hating this!" she murmured.

"What is it? I don't understand."

"You'll find it's all too darned clear by the time I'm through," said
Mrs. Fillmore mournf