"Jack Rivett has asked me to marry him," she said in an expressionless voice. Diana laughed in frank surprise: "That infant!" "Yes." "What an absurdity!" Her sister said nothing. "How did it come—out of a clear sky?" "Yes.... I knew he liked me. I had no idea he wanted to marry me." "You’re not going to, are you?" "No." "I should think not. It would be sheer cradle snatching." "He’s a year older than I am." "In years, yes; but, intellectually, he ought to be playing marbles. Moreover, that sort of a boy _never_ grows up." "I don’t think he will.... God bestows that gift sometimes." "What gift?" "The gift of eternal youth.... I haven’t it.... But I believe it can be shared." She gazed thoughtfully at the distant hills. "Years and years slip from me when that boy and I talk nonsense together." "Better talk sense with him, and wake up, sweetness, or you’ll relapse into your second childhood." "I have just been talking sense to him.... I’m awake," she said dreamily. "Do you mean to admit that the interview has seriously affected you?" "Oh, I don’t know yet." "Better investigate," said Diana. "You know what his parents expect of their children. And if we are to remain here, I think, dear, that you had better see a little less of Jack Rivett than you have been seeing. Don’t you?" "I am sure of it." "Otherwise," continued Diana calmly, "it would be playing the game fairer for you and me to seek another business engagement. These people have been very honorable toward us. We can scarcely permit them to outdo us." Silvette looked up calmly, her cheek resting on her hand. "How dishonorable would it be?" she asked. "What?" "To—let him fall in love with me?" "Ask yourself. You know their social ambitions." "I know; but, after all, you and I started out to make of life a successful business proposition. I thought a desirable marriage was to be part of the programme." "Do you consider Jack Rivett desirable? He could take you nowhere. With all his wealth, where could you take him? And anyway, it’s not playing the game, Silvie. It’s kidnaping." She laughed. "Take a man of your size—and of the world, little sister; and if he isn’t of the world, and is poor, defy him to take _you_!—give him battle—put up a good fight with foot, horse, and artillery. The best one of you will always win, and the other get what’s coming." Silvette went to the desk, supplied herself with pen and paper, and prepared to resume her interrupted correspondence. Presently she looked around, pen poised. [Illustration: "Presently she looked around, pen poised."] "Did the best man win between you and Jim Edgerton?" she asked. Diana bent lower over her sewing. "I’m afraid so, Silvie." "Then _you_ won." "I think so.... I have fought it over every day since—alone." "You poor little thing," said Silvette softly.