"But you're not at all," Pauline declared. "And if you take my advice you won't think you're dull. You'll make Margaret marry you. Really I'm sure that what she would like best is to be made to do something. You see, she's a darling but she is just a very tiny little bit spoilt. You mustn't be so patient with her. But, Richard dear, I know she loves you, because she practically told Guy that she did." "Guy?" he echoed looking rather indignant. "Well, you must understand how sweet Margaret was to him about me. She was so sympathetic, and really she practically brought about our engagement. Oh, I do love her so, Richard, and I do want her to be happy and I do know so dreadfully well that you are the very person to make her happy." "Pauline, you are a pink brick," he avowed. And scarcely another word did he say for the rest of their walk. Pauline went to Margaret's room that night and, after fidgeting all the while her sister was undressing, suddenly plunged down beside her bed and caught hold of her hand. "Margaret, you're not to snub me, because I absolutely must speak. I must beg you not to keep Richard waiting any longer. Do, my darling, darling Margaret, do be kind to him and not so cold. He simply adores you, and ... why, Margaret, you're crying ... oh, let me kiss you, my Margaret, because you were so wonderful about Guy, and I've been a beast to you and you must, you must be happy." "If I could only love him as you love Guy," Margaret sighed between her tears. "You do really ... at least perhaps not quite as much. Oh, Margaret, don't be angry with me if I whisper something to you: think how much you would love him if you and he had ... Margaret, you know what I mean." Pauline blew out the candle and rushed from the dark room; and lying awake in her own bed, she fancied among the flowers of the Rectory such fairy children for Margaret and herself, such fairy children dancing by the margin of the river. _May_ On the morning before Pauline's birthday Guy received a letter from Michael Fane announcing abruptly his engagement and adding that on account of worldly opposition he had been persuaded into a postponement of his marriage for two months. Guy was rather ironically amused by the serious manner in which Michael took so brief a delay, and he could not help thinking how unreasonably impatient of trifles people with ample private means often showed themselves. Michael wrote that he would like to spend some of his probation at Plashers Mead and alluded to the 'luck' of his friend in being so near his Pauline.