"I am not asking for it," she cried, cuttingly. "--I should advise you to get married in a more or less regular sort of way in your mother's home." "Thank you for the advice," she said, curtly. "I shall get married when and where I please,--and to whom I please, Mr. Gwynne." "In view of the fact that I am your brother, Viola, I would suggest that you call me Kenneth." "I have no desire to claim you as a brother, or to recognize you as one," said she. He smiled. "With all my heart I deplore the evil fate that makes you a sister of mine." She was startled. "That--that doesn't sound very--pretty," she said, a trifle dashed. "The God's truth, nevertheless. At any rate, so long as you have to be my sister, I rejoice in the fact that you are an extremely pretty one. It is a great relief. You might have turned out to be a scarecrow. I don't mind confessing that last night I said to myself, 'There is the most beautiful girl in all the world,' and I can't begin to tell you how shocked I was this morning when Striker informed me that you were my half-sister. He knocked a romantic dream into a cocked hat,--and--But even so, sister or no sister, Viola, you still remain beyond compare the loveliest girl I have ever seen." There was something in his eyes that caused her own to waver,--something that by no account could be described as brotherly. She looked away, suddenly timid and confused. It was something she had seen in Barry Lapelle's eyes, and in the eyes of other ardent men. She was flustered and a little distressed. "I--I--if you mean that," she said, nervously, "I suppose I--ought to feel flattered." "Of course, I mean it,--but you need not feel flattered. Truth is no form of flattery." She had recovered herself. "Who told you about Barry Lapelle and me?" she demanded. "You mean about last night's adventure?" he countered, a trifle maliciously. She coloured. "I suppose some one has--Oh, well, it doesn't matter. I sha'n't ask you to betray the sneak who--" "Tut, tut, my dear Viola! You must not--" "Don't call me your dear Viola!" "Well, then, my dear sister,--surely you cannot expect me to address you as Miss Gwyn?" in mild surprise. "Just plain Viola, if you must have a name for me." "That's better," said he, approvingly. "Whoever told you was a sneak," she said, wrathfully. She turned her face away, but not quickly enough to prevent his seeing her chin quiver slightly.