Museum--?"

"But there's a big library there," I answered, "and all the books of
reference I could possibly want. It was of you I was thinking. You could
take up your painting again; you always sell half of what you paint. It
would be a splendid rest too, and Sussex is a jolly country to walk in.
By all means, Fanny, I advise--"

Our eyes met, as I stammered in my attempts to avoid expressing the
thought that hid in both our minds. My sister had a weakness for
dabbling in the various "new" theories of the day, and Mabel, who before
her marriage had belonged to foolish societies for investigating the
future life to the neglect of the present one, had fostered this
undesirable tendency. Her amiable, impressionable temperament was open
to every psychic wind that blew. I deplored, detested the whole
business. But even more than this I abhorred the later influence that
Mr. Franklyn had steeped his wife in, capturing her body and soul in his
somber doctrines. I had dreaded lest my sister also might be caught.

"Now that she is alone again--"

I stopped short. Our eyes now made pretence impossible, for the truth
had slipped out inevitably, stupidly, although unexpressed in definite
language. We laughed, turning our faces a moment to look at other things
in the room. Frances picked up a book and examined its cover as though
she had made an important discovery, while I took my case out and lit a
cigarette I did not want to smoke. We left the matter there. I went out
of the room before further explanation could cause tension.
Disagreements grow into discord from such tiny things--wrong adjectives,
or a chance inflection of the voice. Frances had a right to her views of