Elise drew a quick breath, her eyes lingered on John’s, a little startled, but not at all distressed. She had long ago wanted to attend to John first. Her clear colourless skin became suffused with a deep rose blush. Elise knew that John loved her, but she had not known, she did not know now, what his love meant to her. John’s love for her was three years old. Mambles was full of it, it was the background of her life; she had grown used to its protectiveness. A little frown fixed itself between her tender brows. “You wouldn’t,” she murmured, “if I did like you John, want me to ever give up Papa? You see he hasn’t any one now—not Mamma, or Arnold, and just being wonderful must be so dull, if it only means outsiders.” John shook his head. “Never,” he said emphatically. “There isn’t a man on earth I admire and like as I do your father. I consider it an honour to work for him. I don’t ever want to take you away from him; but I do want to have you as well.” “More than this?” Elise asked gently. “A great deal more than this,” said John with unmistakable solidity. Elise’s eyes wavered; she wanted of course that John should have what he wanted. It would be lovely to make his eyes stop looking anxious, and smile. But, on the other hand, her mind was full of an apprehensive picture. How would Hermione bear it? She had seen Hermione bearing things she didn’t like before. John would probably bear them very much better. “But Hermione,” Elise said under her breath, “you won’t want me ever to give up Hermione?” “I don’t suppose for a moment I shall want you to give up your sister,” John said in a more measured tone than he had used in referring to Mr. Brett. “Why should you, darling, have to give up anything? I only want you to have more.” Elise did not reply that in her small but deeply felt experience having more had invariably implied certain renunciations. She only said, “You don’t know Hermione, John; but if you did, you’d feel the way I do about her, and you’d help me so that she and dear Papa could understand each other better. Hermione’s heart is broken, that’s what makes her so ill, and sometimes so—difficult. “Don’t you think if your heart’s broken, you just have to act difficult at times? Papa’s so clever, but he’s been too happy himself to realise about Hermione. Why he and Mamma had just an ideal marriage. I never heard Papa say one sharp word to Mamma, so naturally he can’t feel the way I do about Hermione. I haven’t been able to _do_ anything, but oh, John—don’t you think that perhaps you and I together could work it so that Papa could understand Hermione?” John had a very great respect for Mr. Brett’s judgment, but he belonged to the younger generation, and he knew how misguided parents are apt to be about their children, and how wise children necessarily are about their parents. He decided to keep an open mind on the subject of Hermione.