"Because----well, I may as well tell you as not I've never mentioned it--I don't know why exactly--but I'll tell you now, Mary. A few weeks ago, when we were so down on our luck, you know--just before you began to work again--I met Oliver in Russell Square, and told him what I wanted and what I thought of him. I brought him to terms, I can tell you! He had just got himself engaged to Miss Kenyon; and she has twenty thousand pounds besides her profession; and he promised me two thousand down on his wedding-day. What do you say to that? And within six months, too! And if he doesn't keep his word, I shall not hold my tongue about the one or two little secrets of his that I possess--do you see?" "Perhaps," said Mrs. Trent, slowly, "he thinks he could manage to pay you the money even if he married Miss Brooke? So long as you get the two thousand, I suppose you don't mind which girl it is?" "Not a bit," answered her husband frankly. "All I want is the money. Then we'll go off to America, old girl, and have the farm you talk about. But Brooke's daughter won't have two thousand pounds, so if he marries her instead of Miss Kenyon, he'll have to look out." Mrs. Trent had finished her work by this time. As she stood by the table drying her hands there was a look of fixed determination on her features which Francis recognized with some uneasiness. "What do you think about it? What are you going to do?" he asked, almost timidly. "I am not going to see Miss Lesley badly treated, at any rate." "How can you prevent it?" "I don't know, but I _shall_ prevent it, please God, if necessary. Your brother Oliver is engaged to one girl, and making love to another, that's the plain English of it; and sooner than see him break Miss Lesley's heart, I'd up and tell everybody what I know of him, and get him turned out of the house." "And spoil my game?" cried Francis, rising to his feet. His faced had turned white with anger, and his eyes were aflame. She looked at him consideringly, as if she were measuring his strength against her own. "Well--no," she said at length, "I won't spoil your game if I can help it--and I think I can get my own way without doing that. I want you to win your game, Francis. For you know"--with a weary smile--"that if you win, I win too." Her husband's face relaxed. "You're not a bad sort, Polly: I always said so," he remarked. "Come and give me a kiss. You wouldn't do anything rash, would you? Choke Oliver off at Brooke's as much as you like; but don't endanger his relations with Ethel Kenyon. His marriage with her is our only chance of getting out of this accursed bog we seem to have stuck fast in." "I'll be careful," said Mrs. Trent, drily. Francis still eyed her with apprehension. "You won't try to stop that marriage, will you?" "No, why should I? Miss Kenyon's nothing to me." Francis laughed. "I didn't know where your sympathies might be carrying you," he said. "Brooke's daughter is no more to you than the other girl."