"Don’t be sentimental over Jim Edgerton," she said; "he is a lightweight, Di." "You are wrong; and I am not sentimental." "Well, I believe you did get over it; but you’re a loyal and generous little thing, Di, and you’re worrying over a man who is entirely capable of looking out for himself." "That’s what I want him to do." "He’s doing it, very gracefully. Later, with equal and fetching grace he’ll let some wealthy girl do it for him." "That would be contemptible; he isn’t." "Now, does the world so consider an advantageous marriage, little sister? Besides, that is exactly what we have planned for ourselves, isn’t it?" "We? What are we, anyway, compared to a man who can count in the world!" flashed out Diana, surprised at her own vehemence, aware that her sister was even more astonished and chagrined. "What on earth are you saying?" she exclaimed. "Are you in love with that man?" "No." "One might infer as much." "You may infer it if you choose." "Di!" "What?" "Why do you speak to me that way?" "Because—I don’t—know." She turned and moved toward the bed, encountered the soft, open arms of her sister. They closed around her; she laid her head on Silvette’s shoulder. "Darling! Little Di!" whispered Silvette in sorrowful consternation. "Has this really happened to you?" "I don’t know—I don’t know.... I am not happy; I don’t understand.... At moments I cannot believe it.... He is not my ideal of a man; I am stronger in many ways—I am wiser than he. He is only a boy, Silvie—careless, ease loving, with nothing but smatterings—nothing but the social experience of a man of his class behind him. Nothing real has ever happened to him in life.... And, somehow, I know—I _know_ that if it only did, he would become a man—a real man. I _know_ it; I can’t bear to see him waste his life—fall into easy ways of thinking—make no effort.... I want him to strive; I want him to fight life.... He ought to. The making of him is in a battle with circumstances. This life is ruin to him—this house, these people, any people who will employ him in such a capacity!" She caught her breath, almost in a sob. "I _have_ cared for him—a little—from the very first.... I am not—fitted for him—in many ways." "Di!" "I am _not_! I care for him unselfishly. I don’t know why I should, but I do; and he ought not to marry me even if he—ever—wished to." "You are talking wildly, darling! _You_—not good enough for _him_! What a silly——" "Not good enough, I tell you!" repeated the girl fiercely. "I care too much for what he finds agreeable—all this ease and relaxation.... I wish I were different. I wish I could arouse him; I’d do it. I’d do it somehow—I’d do it now if I could——" She caught her breath, stood perfectly motionless a moment, then Silvette felt her tremble slightly. After a while she lifted her head from her sister’s shoulder.