_Agnes._ Oh, you are a huge big fraud, you know you are; I am quite ashamed of you. [Lucy _is going to speak_.] You are not to be thanked, I know; and you needn't be afraid, I am not going to do so; but if you could only hear us when we are talking quietly together, you would find that a certain person, who shall be nameless, is simply worship---- _Lucy._ Hush! you silly little girl. You don't know what you are saying. You have nothing to thank me for whatsoever. _Agnes._ Haven't we just? I know better. _Lucy._ Young people always do. So you see I do know something of how "the poor" live. _Agnes._ Yes, but you were never married. _Lucy._ No, dear. _Agnes._ That is what I want to----Why weren't you married? Oh, I know I have no business to ask such a question: it is fearfully rude I know, but I have wondered so often. You are lovely now, and you must have been beautiful when you were a girl. _Lucy._ No, I wasn't--I was barely pretty. _Agnes._ I can't believe that. _Lucy._ And I am not going to accept your description of me now as a true one; although I confess I am vain enough--even in my present old age--to look in the glass occasionally, and say to myself: "You are better-looking now than you ever were." _Agnes._ Well, at all events you were always an angel. _Lucy._ And men don't like angels; besides--I was poor. _Agnes._ You were not poor when you got Aunt Emily's money. _Lucy._ No, but then it was too----I mean I then had no wish to marry. _Agnes._ You mean you determined to sacrifice yourself for us, that is what you mean. _Lucy._ I must have possessed a very prophetic soul then, or been gifted with second sight, as none of you, except Reginald, were born. But to come back to your friend, Agnes; has she no money? _Agnes._ No, none. _Lucy._ Nor he? _Agnes._ Not a penny. _Lucy._ And they want to get married? _Agnes._ Yes. _Lucy._ And are afraid they haven't enough. _Agnes._ They certainly haven't. _Lucy._ Then why don't they apply to some friend or relative who has more than enough; say, to--an aunt, for instance. _Agnes._ Auntie! _Lucy._ And what is his name? _Agnes._ Geo----Mr. Reddell. _Lucy._ And hers is? _Agnes._ Oh, I never intended to tell you. I didn't mean to say a word. _Lucy._ When did it happen? _Agnes._ Three days ago. That is to say, he proposed to me then, but of course it has been going on for a long time. I could see that he--at least I thought I could see. But I can hardly realise it yet. It seems all so strange. And I _did_ intend telling you, I felt I _must_ tell somebody, although George doesn't want it known yet, because, as I told you, he--and so I haven't said a word to father yet; but I must soon--and you won't say anything, will you? and--and oh, I am silly. _Lucy._ There, have your cry out, it will do you good. Now tell me about Mr. Reddell. What is he? _Agnes._ He is a writer--an author. Don't you remember I showed you a story of his a little time ago?