"If I don't, then he is ruined!" Lady Rylton gets up from her chair, and takes a step or two towards Margaret. "This house-party that I have arranged, with this girl in it, is a last effort," says she in a low voice, but rather hysterically. She clasps her hands together. "He must--he _must_ marry her. If he refuses----" "But she may refuse him," says Margaret gently; "you should think of that." "She--she refuse? You are mad!" says Lady Rylton. "A girl--a girl called _Bolton."_ "It is certainly an ugly name," says Margaret in a conciliatory way. "And yet you blame me because I desire to give her Rylton instead, a name as old as England itself. I tell you, Margaret," with a little delicate burst of passion, "that it goes to my very soul to accept this girl as a daughter. She--she is _hateful_ to me, not only because of her birth, but in every way. She is antagonistic to me. She--would you believe it?--she has had the audacity to argue with me about little things, as if she--_she,"_ imperiously, "should have an opinion when I was present." "My dear Tessie, we all have opinions, and you know you said yourself that at seventeen nowadays one is no longer a child." "I wish, Margaret, you would cure yourself of that detestable habit of repeating one's self _to_ one's self," says Lady Rylton resentfully. "There," sinking back in her chair, and saturating her handkerchief with some delicate essence from a little Louis Quatorze bottle beside her, "it isn't worth so much worry. But to say that she would refuse Maurice----" "Why should she not? She looks to me like a girl who would not care to risk all her future life for mere position. I mean," says Margaret a little sadly, "that she looks to me as if she would be like that when she is older, and understands." "Then she must look to you like a fool," says Lady Rylton petulantly. "Hardly that. Like a girl, rather, with sense, and with a heart." "My dear girl, we know how romantic you are, we know that old story of yours," says Lady Rylton, who can be singularly nasty at times. "Such an _old_ story, too. I think you might try to forget it." "Does one ever forget?" says Margaret coldly. A swift flush has dyed her pale face. "And story or no story, I shall always think that the woman who marries a man without caring for him is a far greater fool than the woman who marries a man for whom she does care." "After all, I am not thinking of a woman," says Lady Rylton with a shrug. "I am thinking of Maurice. This girl has money; and, of course, she will accept him if I can only induce him to ask her." "It is not altogether of course!" _"I_ think it is," says Lady Rylton obstinately. Miss Knollys shrugs her shoulders. All at once Mrs. Bethune turns from the window and advances towards Margaret. There is a sudden fury in her eyes.