Aileen set her lips close. After all, it was not best to answer this woman as she deserved to be answered. She controlled the increasing anger so far as to be able to smile frankly and answer lightly: "You've no need to worry, Mrs. Champney; your nephew has never asked me to be his wife." "His wife!" she echoed scornfully; "I should say not; and let me tell you for your own benefit--sometime you'll thank me for it--and mark my words, Aileen Armagh, he never will ask you to be his wife, and the sooner you accept this unvarnished truth the better it will be for you. I suppose you think because you've led Romanzo Caukins and young Poggi a chase, you can do the same with Champney Googe--but you'll find out your mistake; such men aren't led--they lead. He is going to marry Alice Van Ostend." "Do you _know_ this for a fact, Mrs. Champney?" She turned upon her sharply. She was, at last, at bay; her eyes were dark with anger; her lips and cheeks white. "It's like you to fly off at a tangent, Aileen, and doubt a person's word simply because it happens to contain an unpleasant truth for you--here is the proof," she held up a letter; "it's from my cousin, Henry Van Ostend; he has written it out in black and white that my nephew has already asked for his daughter's hand. Now disabuse your mind of any notion you may have in regard to Champney Googe--I hope you won't disgrace yourself by crying for the moon after this." The girl's eyes fairly blazed upon her. "Mrs. Champney, after this I'll thank you to keep your advice and your family affairs to yourself--_I_ didn't ask for either. And you've no need to tell me I'm only Aileen Armagh--for I know it perfectly well. I'm only an orphan you took into your home seven years ago and have kept, so far, for her service. But if I am only this, I am old enough to do and act as I please--and now you may mark _my_ words: it's not I who will disgrace you and yours--not I, remember that!" Her anger threatened to choke her; but her voice although husky remained low, never rising above its level inflection. "And let me tell you another thing: I'm as good any day as Alice Van Ostend, and I should despise myself if I thought myself less; and if it's the millions that make the difference in the number of your friends--may God keep me poor till I die!" She spoke with passionate earnestness. Mrs. Champney smiled to herself; she felt her purpose was accomplished. "Are you going up to Mrs. Caukins'?" she asked in a matter-of-fact voice that struck like cold iron on the girl's burning intensity of feeling. "Yes, I'm going." "Well, be back by seven." The girl made no reply. She left the library at once, closing the door behind her with a force that made the hall ring. Mrs. Champney smiled again, and proceeded to re-read Alice Van Ostend's letter.