Milly entered the house in the full expectation of having trouble with Iris, and in this she was not disappointed. Iris met her as she closed the door, and beckoned her into the shabby little drawing-room, where for a moment or so the two girls eyed one another in silence. As Milly had told Lovel, there was no kin between them, for Iris was the daughter of the second Mrs. Lester by her first husband; and when that lady had married the doctor she found him already provided with a child by his first wife. Milly was twenty years of age, Iris twenty-five; and while the first was a beautiful girl with many admirers, the second was dark and quiet, with no grace of form or face, and, as yet, had not gained one lover. Her small accomplishments were quite extinguished by the brilliance and beauty of Milly. Yet Iris possessed the better nature of the two, and would make a better wife, in spite of her looks. The dispositions of the two girls were antagonistic; and they disliked one another exceedingly. Only the narrowness of their circumstances compelled them to live under the same roof, else they would have parted long since. Luckily--as both thought--the marriage of Milly would bring about the wished-for separation; yet even in this there was an element of bitterness to Iris. What that element was may be seen from the slightly acidulated conversation which ensued. "Really, Milly!" said Iris with a weary sigh. "I do think you might stay at home and help me with the house. There is such a lot to do, and Eliza"--the one servant of the Lesters--"is worse than useless." "Then get another servant!" retorted Milly, throwing down her hat. "I am not going to stay in on this fine day." "What would Darcy say if he knew you were wandering about by yourself?" "Bother! Who cares what he says! Besides," added Milly, defiantly, "I have not been by myself." "Milly," cried Iris, with a dark shade on her face, "have you been again with Mr. Lovel?" "For the last hour, my dear." "Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself." Milly laughed, and examined herself critically in the mirror over the fireplace. She was used to the scoldings of Iris, and cared very little for them. So long as Darcy did not hear of her flirtations with Lovel she had no fear, and treated the expostulations of Iris and the doctor with cool disdain. She did not trouble herself to reply to the last remark, but continued to admire her beauty with critical eyes, while Iris continued: "You know Mr. Lovel is almost engaged----" "To Miss Clyde, I suppose you mean. Oh, dear! no, he isn't! He has just told me that he cares nothing for her and a good deal for me." "But you are engaged to Mr. Herne." "I am, my dear; I am!" retorted Milly swinging round on the tips of her toes. "Don't you wish you were?" Iris flushed crimson, for Milly knew well enough that she more than admired the squire. "If I were," she said, evading the question, "I should act in a more honourable way towards him."