"I like Doctor Fairbridge," Sophy remarked, with an abruptness that caused the smile to fade, though the challenge did not, she observed, produce any other effect. "So do I," agreed Peggy. "He is in love with you," said Sophy. "He thinks he is," Peggy corrected. "I expect he often finds himself in that condition." "That's hedging, Peggy. He isn't half bad. You might do worse." "I might. I daresay I shall," returned Peggy unmoved. "You'll die an old maid, my Pegtop; men are none too plentiful." "I can even contemplate that condition undismayed," Peggy replied calmly. "The unmarried woman is the best off, if she would only recognise it. Marriage is--" She paused, at a loss for a fitting definition, and during the pause Sophy lighted her cigarette and smoked it thoughtfully and looked into the fire. "Marriage isn't the heaven many people think, I know," she allowed; "but it--settles one." "It settles two as a rule," Peggy retorted flippantly. She wrinkled her brows and stared into the fire likewise, and was silent awhile. "I have never heard you so eloquent on marriage before," she said presently. "I don't believe, as a matter of fact, I have heard you discuss the subject until now. Are you contemplating it?" Sophy laughed consciously. "There's some one," she confided, and hesitated, aware of her sister's quickened interest. "But he's poor," she added hastily. "He's an architect too. One day, perhaps..." "One day, of course," Peggy returned softly, and got up and kissed the young, earnest face. "I'm so glad, dear. I want to hear all about him." "Another time," said Sophy, smiling. "I am a little shy of talking about him yet. But he is a dear." "I am sure he is, or you wouldn't care for him." Peggy stood in front of the fire with her back to it, and regarded her sister critically. She regretted that Sophy's romance had not sooner revealed itself. Assuredly, if their aunt had known of it, the dear would have been included in the Hall party. "And so we have the reason for your newly-awakened interest in the affairs of the heart of less fortunate folk," she remarked presently. "That's rather nice of you, Sophy. Most people when they have `settled' themselves don't care a flick of the fingers about the settlement of the world in general." "I don't suppose I feel especially concerned about the world in general myself," replied Sophy. "You can scarcely class yourself in that category." "Oh, it's I?" said Peggy, smiling ironically. "I thought it was Doctor Fairbridge you were particularly interested in." "He is nice," Sophy insisted. "Is he? He didn't happen to tell you, I suppose, as he did me when we first met, with an air of weary resignation to the obligation of his profession, that he had to marry because unmarried medical men were at a disadvantage?" Sophy looked amused. "I don't think if he had I should have placed undue importance on that," she replied.