Directly she could disentangle herself from breakfast Mrs. Pope, with all her plans acute, went up to the girls' room. She found her daughter dressing in a leisurely and meditative manner. She shut the door almost confidentially. "Marjorie," she said, "I want you to tell me all about this." "I thought I heard father telling you," said Marjorie. "He was too indignant," said Mrs. Pope, "to explain clearly. You see, Marjorie"--she paused before her effort--"he knows things--about this Professor Trafford." "What things?" asked Marjorie, turning sharply. "I don't know, my dear--and I can't imagine." She looked out of the window, aware of Marjorie's entirely distrustful scrutiny. "I don't believe it," said Marjorie. "Don't believe what, dear?" "Whatever he says." "I wish I didn't," said Mrs. Pope, and turned. "Oh, Madge," she cried, "you cannot imagine how all this distresses me! I cannot--I cannot conceive how you came to be in such a position! Surely honour----! Think of Mr. Magnet, how good and patient he has been! You don't know that man. You don't know all he is, and all that it means to a girl. He is good and honourable and--pure. He is kindness itself. It seemed to me that you were to be so happy--rich, honoured." She was overcome by a rush of emotion; she turned to the bed and sat down. "_There!_" she said desolately. "It's all ruined, shattered, gone." Marjorie tried not to feel that her mother was right. "If father hadn't interfered," she said weakly. "Oh, don't, my dear, speak so coldly of your father! You don't know what he has to put up with. You don't know his troubles and anxieties--all this wretched business." She paused, and her face became portentous. "Marjorie, do you know if these railways go on as they are going he may have to _eat into his capital_ this year. Just think of that, and the worry he has! And this last shame and anxiety!" Her voice broke again. Marjorie listened with an expression that was almost sullen. "But what is it," she asked, "that father knows about Mr. Trafford?" "I don't know, dear. I don't know. But it's something that matters--that makes it all different." "Well, may I speak to Mr. Trafford before he leaves Buryhamstreet?" "My dear! Never see him, dear--never think of him again! Your father would not dream----Some day, Marjorie, you will rejoice--you will want to thank your father on your bended knees that he saved you from the clutches of this man...." "I won't believe anything about Mr. Trafford," she said slowly, "until I know----" She left the sentence incomplete. She made her declaration abruptly. "I love Mr. Trafford," she said, with a catch in her voice, "and I don't love Mr. Magnet." Mrs. Pope received this like one who is suddenly stabbed. She sat still as if overwhelmed, one hand pressed to her side and her eyes closed. Then she said, as if she gasped involuntarily--