"But I've told you already, it's a question of Marriage, Miss Hartill. Surely you see the difference? How can you weigh the most intimate, the most ideal friendship against the chance of getting married?" Elsbeth was wholly in earnest. Clare mounted her high horse. "I can--I do. There are better things in life than marriage." "For the average woman? Do you sincerely say so? The brilliant woman--the rich woman--I don't count them, and there are other exceptions, of course; but when her youth is over, what is the average single woman? A derelict, drifting aimlessly on the high seas of life. Oh--I'm not very clear; it's easy to make fun of me; but I know what I mean and so do you. We're not children. We both know that an unmated woman--she's a failure--she's unfulfilled." Clare was elaborately bored. "Really, Miss Loveday, the subject does not interest me." "It must, for Alwynne's sake. Don't you realise your enormous responsibility? Don't you realise that when you keep Alwynne entangled in your apron strings, blind to other interests, when you cram her with poetry and emotional literature, when you allow her to attach herself passionately to you, you are feeding, and at the same time deflecting from its natural channel, the strongest impulse of her life--of any girl's life? Alwynne needs a good concrete husband to love, not a fantastic ideal that she calls friendship and clothes in your face and figure. You are doing her a deep injury, Miss Hartill--unconsciously, I know, or I should not be here--but doing it, none the less. If you will consider her happiness----" Clare broke in angrily-- "I do consider her happiness. Alwynne tells you that I am essential to her happiness." "She may believe so. But she's not happy. She has not been happy for a long time. But she believes herself to be so, I grant you that. But consider the future. Shall she never break away? Shall she oscillate indefinitely between you and me, spend her whole youth in sustaining two old maids? Oh, Miss Hartill, she must have her chance. We must give her what we've missed ourselves." Clare appeared to be occupied in stifling a yawn. Her eyes were danger signals, but Elsbeth was not Alwynne to remark them. "In one thing, at least, I do thoroughly agree with you. I don't think there is the faintest likelihood of Alwynne's wishing to marry at all at present, but I do feel, with you, that it is unfair to expect her to oscillate, as you rhetorically put it, between two old maids. I agree, too, that I have responsibilities in connection with her. In fact, I think she would be happier if she were with me altogether, and I intend to ask her to come and live here. I shall ask her to-night. Don't you think she will be pleased?" Clare's aim was good. Elsbeth clutched at the arms of her chair. "You wouldn't do such a thing." Clare laughed shrilly.