ends among the
journalists.'

'Still,' replied Marian, 'I'm afraid they couldn't have given the book
much praise, if they wrote honestly. Did Amy ask you to go and see her?'

'Yes, but she said it was uncertain how long they would be living at
their present address. And really, we can't feel sure whether we should
be welcome or not just now.'

Marian listened with bent head. She too had to make known to her friends
that they were not welcome in her own home; but she knew not how to
utter words which would sound so unkind.

'Your brother,' she said after a pause, 'will soon find suitable friends
for you.'

'Before long,' replied Dora, with a look of amusement, 'he's going to
take us to call on Mrs Boston Wright. I hardly thought he was serious at
first, but he says he really means it.'

Marian grew more and more silent. At home she had felt that it would not
be difficult to explain her troubles to these sympathetic girls, but now
the time had come for speaking, she was oppressed by shame and anxiety.
True, there was no absolute necessity for making the confession this
evening, and if she chose to resist her father's prejudice, things might
even go on in a seemingly natural way. But the loneliness of her life
had developed in her a sensitiveness which could not endure situations
such as the present; difficulties which are of small account to
people who take their part in active social life, harassed her to the
destruction of all peace. Dora was not long in noticing the dejected
mood which had come upon her friend.

'What's troubling you, Marian?'

'Something I can hardly bear to speak of. Perhaps it will be the end of
your friendship for me, and I should find it very hard to go back to my
old solitude.'

The girls gazed at her, in doubt at first whether she spoke seriously.

'What can you mean?' Dora exclaimed. 'What crime have you been
committing?'

Maud, who leaned with her elbows on the table, searched Marian's face
curiously, but said nothing.

'Has Mr Milvain shown you the new number of The Current?' Marian went on
to ask.

They replied with a negative, and Maud added:

'He has nothing in it this month, except a review.'

'A review?' repeated Marian in a low voice.

'Yes; of somebody's novel.'

'Markland's,' supplied Dora.

Marian drew a breath, but remained for a moment with her eyes cast down.

'Do go on, dear,' urged Dora. 'Whatever are you going to tell us?'

'There's a notice of father