“Oh, Molly, do stop being Mrs. Grundy.” Mary lifted her chin. “Just because I was interested,” she said. “I suppose you’d rather I didn’t care.” Then she relaxed a little. “Liz, I’m frightfully excited. Do be pleased and excited too. Why are you so stiff and odd? Isn’t David pleased?” She had looked away, but she turned quickly at the last words, and fixed her eyes on Elizabeth’s face. And for a moment Elizabeth had been off her guard. Mary exclaimed. “Isn’t he pleased? Doesn’t he know? Liz, you don’t mean to tell me——” “I don’t think you give me much time to tell you anything, Molly,” said Elizabeth. “He doesn’t know? Liz, what’s happened to you? Why are you so extraordinary? It’s the sort of thing you read about in an early Victorian novel. Do you mean to say that you _really_ haven’t told David? That he doesn’t know?” Elizabeth’s colour rose. “Molly, my dear, do you think it is your business?” she said. “Yes, I do,” said Mary. “I suppose you won’t pretend you’re not my own sister. And I think you must be quite mad, Liz. I do, indeed. You ought to tell David at once—at once. I can’t _imagine_ what Edward would have said if he had not known at once. You ought to go straight home and tell him now. Married people ought to be one. They ought never to have secrets.” Mary poured the whole thing out to Edward the same evening. “I really don’t know what has happened to Elizabeth,” she said. “She is quite changed. I can’t understand her at all. I think it is quite wicked of her. If she doesn’t tell David soon, some one else ought to tell him.” Edward moved uneasily in his chair. “People don’t like being interfered with,” he said. “Well, I’m sure nobody could call me an interfering person,” said Mary. “It isn’t interfering to be fond of people. If I weren’t fond of Liz, I shouldn’t care how strangely she behaved. I do think it’s very strange of her—and I don’t care what you say, Edward. I think David ought to be told. How would you have liked it if I’d hidden things from you?” Edward rumpled up his hair. “People _don’t_ like being interfered with,” he said again. At this Mary burst into tears, and continued to weep until Edward had called himself a brute sufficiently often to justify her contradicting him. Elizabeth continued to wait. She was not quite as untroubled as she had been. The scene with Mary had brought the whole world of other people’s thoughts and judgments much nearer. It was a troubling world. One full of shadows and perplexities. It pressed upon her a little and vexed her peace.