It was the first time she had ever definitely asked a favour of him, and he had refused! Peg, coming into the hall, noticed her pallor. "What's the matter, little 'un?" she asked in concern, but Faith would not answer. She went upstairs to her room, and after a moment Peg followed. "What's up?" she asked again. "Anything I can do?" There was a momentary silence, then Faith said, in a queer, cold little voice: "Yes. Come in; I want to speak to you." Peg obeyed. There was an amused smile hovering round the corners of her mouth. "I'm all attention," she said. "Fire away." Faith's hands were trembling and she clasped them together to hide the humiliating fact. "I've been thinking," she said, with an effort. "I've been thinking that--that though you've been very kind, I...." She could not go on. Peg looked up, a gleam of fire in her eyes. She knew without further words what it was that Faith was trying to tell her. "You mean you want me to clear out?" she said bluntly. Faith wavered for a moment; then she thought of the way in which Forrester had refused her request five minutes ago, though yesterday he had been so easily persuaded by Peg. "You need not put it like that," she said hoarsely, "but ... yes, that is what I mean." The crimson blood swept Peg's face and died away again, leaving her as white as marble. It was the last thing of which she had ever dreamed that this child--this baby--would ever turn her out of the house! Her loyal heart felt as if it must burst with shame and pain, but she shrugged her shoulders with a brave display of indifference. "Well, I'll see what Mr. Forrester says," she answered coolly. "If he wants me to go--well.... He's master of the house, isn't he? I came here because he asked me to, and so I guess I'll take my marching orders from him." CHAPTER XII But in spite of her defiance, Peg was desperately unhappy. Her cheeks burned as she walked out of the room, her head high in the air. She was torn between her love for Forrester and her desire to secure his happiness and her loyalty to her friend. She knew quite well what Faith must be thinking, and while she was rejoiced that at last she had succeeded in rousing her jealousy, she was bitterly ashamed of the part she had set herself to play. She went up to her gaudy room and shut the door, standing for a moment leaning against it, her hands in her favourite position, on her hips. What was she to do now? Would Forrester refuse to have her so summarily turned out of his house? She did not see how he could very well go against his wife's wishes. For the first time the gaudiness of the room irritated her. It seemed a vivid reminder of the vast difference that lay between her life and Faith's. She caught up one of the peacock green cushions from an armchair and flung it at a particularly offensive looking bird in the wall-paper.