now what I've come about,"
responded Nan, ensconcing herself on the cushioned window seat.

"I'd know better if you were to explain."

"Then--in his words--why have you refused Ralph Fenton?"

"Oh, is that it?"--indifferently. "Because I don't want to marry--at
present." And Penelope picked up her brush and resumed the brushing of
her hair as though the matter were at an end.

"So that's why you told him--as your reason for refusing him--that you
wouldn't marry him as long as I needed you?"

The hair-brush clattered to the floor.

"The idiot!--I suppose he told Kitty?" exclaimed Penelope, making a
dive after her brush.

"Yes, he did. And Kitty told me. And now I've come to tell you that I
entirely decline to be a reason for your refusing to marry a nice young
man like Ralph."

Penelope was silent, and Nan, coming over to her side, slipped an arm
about her shoulders.

"Dear old Penny! It was just like you, but if you think I'm going to
let you make a burnt-offering of yourself in that way, you're mistaken.
Do you suppose"--indignantly--"that I can't look after myself?"

"I'm quite sure of it."

"Rubbish! Why, I've got Kitty and Uncle David and oh! dozens of people
to look after me!"

Penelope's mouth set itself in an obstinate line.

"I shall never marry till you do, Nan . . . because not one of the
'dozens' understand your--your general craziness as well as I do."

Nan laughed.

"That's rude--though a fairly accurate statement. But still, Penny
dear, just to please me, will you marry Ralph?"

"No"--with promptitude--"I certainly won't. If I married him at all,
it would be to please myself."

"Well," wheedled Nan, "wouldn't it please you--really?"

"We can't always do as we please in this world."

Nan grimaced.

"Hoots, lassie! Now you're talking like Aunt Eliza."

Penelope continued brushing her hair serenely and vouchsafed no answer.

Nan renewed the attack.

"It amounts to this, then--that I've got to get married in order to let
Ralph marry you!"

"Of course it doesn't!"

"Well, answer me this: If I were going to be married, would you give
Ralph a different answer?"

"I might"--non-committally.

"Then you may as well go and do it. As I _am_ going to be married--to
Roger Trenby."

"To Roger! Nan, you don't mean it? It isn't true?"

"It is--perfectly true. Have you anything to say against
it?"--defiantly.

"Everything. He's the last man in the world to make you happ