"_Piers_! Vanna! You _mean_ it? Piers? Piers and you? You are engaged? When? Where? For how long?" "At Seacliff. A fortnight ago. But we have loved each other from the first." "And you never told me; you never said a word." "No. I have not seen you; but even if I had I could not have spoken. Remember how _you_ felt! Could you have discussed Robert with me while you were waiting? I asked Piers not to announce the engagement until I had told you. No one has been told so far, except his mother." "Mrs Rendall? She knows? It is settled then? Really absolutely settled?" "Certainly. I told you so. A fortnight ago." A little chill of offence sounded in Vanna's voice. Jean's congratulations were a trifle too long delayed; her surprise too blank to be flattering. "Aren't you going to congratulate me, Jean?" "But--but--You told me--you said--the doctor said--" "That I should never marry. Just so! That fact remains. Piers knows; I did not deceive him; he knew months ago. He came up to interview Dr Greatman himself. We know that we can never marry, but we love each other, and mean to take what happiness remains. No one ever forbade me to be engaged." "How can you be engaged? What for? Engaged _not_ to be married? It's absurd. What could you say? How could you explain? What would people think?" Vanna laughed--a short, hard laugh. Still Jean had not congratulated her, nor said one loving word. "If it is a false position, it is just those `people' of whom you speak who force us into it. The conventions of society don't allow a man and a woman to enjoy each other's society undisturbed. To be engaged is the only way in which they can gain the liberty. Therefore that is the way we must take. There is nothing else to be done." "And--when you _don't_ marry? You are both well off, and not too young. People will expect you to marry at once, and when you don't--" "That is our own affair. They will be told at the beginning that it will be a long engagement, and however much they may wonder among themselves, they will hardly have the impertinence to question us on the subject. I imagine they will be polite, and kind, and congratulate us. I don't think there will be many who will hear the news without speaking _one_ kind word." The inference was undisguised--was intended to be undisguised. Jean flushed again, and knitted her delicate brows. "I don't mean to be unkind, but it sounds so wild, so impracticable, so utterly unlike you, Vanna. Where will you live? How can you meet? You are only twenty-five. People are so ready to talk. What do you propose to _do_?"