"Oh, Gommie, don't be so depressing. Do say for a change that you hope George will make a good husband. That is much more to the point. How could I be happy if he should turn out to be a tyrant, and beat and ill-use me? You know, they say it doesn't matter who you marry, because you are sure to find out afterwards that you have married somebody else." Mrs. Greaves, regarding her with godmotherly affection, as well as with disapproval, thought of the night at the railway station in India, such years ago, when Trixie had laughed and chattered and danced up and down at the window of the compartment, grabbing her toy, while her parents were breaking their hearts in farewell. Then she was only a baby and could not be blamed for her callousness; yet now at nineteen she seemed almost as heartless! "I am sure," said Mrs. Greaves dryly, "that it will be your own fault if he does beat you, and that you will richly deserve it." "Help!" cried Trixie. Mrs. Greaves addressed herself to Mrs. Munro. "Now, Ellen, may I go into the kitchen and put on my own shoes and stockings? They must have been dry long ago. I only trust your maid has not allowed them to scorch." The two ladies left the room, and Trixie looked at herself appreciatively in the mirror over the mantelpiece and hummed a gay tune. "Gommie is a cat," she said carelessly. "She thinks I am a sort of she-devil, and I am sure she was longing to tell you dreadful things about my frivolity, and want of heart, and my general wickedness." There was no response, and she turned to see George Coventry regarding her with serious eyes. "Perhaps she would also tell you that I was hard, and cold, and intolerant," he said brusquely. "Well, if you are I shall come home again, and enjoy myself as a grass widow," she laughed. "Trixie!" he protested; and her youth, her sweetness, her bright eyes overcame him, rendered him weak and fatuous. He caught her in his arms and kissed her passionately; she submitted with a sort of gracious triumph. He released her reluctantly. "I wonder," he said, "if I am doing wrong in taking you? My life is half over, yours is only just beginning. You have no experience, and mine has been a hard one. Do you know, child, that I swore I would never believe in a woman again? And then you came and conquered, and made me feel I had everything left to live for if you would be my wife. Trixie"--his voice held an agony of doubt--"you won't fail me? You will keep alive my new-found faith? You will be a true and loving wife?" She quailed a little at his vehemence, as though she had a sudden glimpse of something far more deep and serious than had yet come within her knowledge.