been mistaken. Sylvia had steadfastly refused every lover who had
come her way.

He had found another billet for old Ranger, and had installed a
dour Scotchman in his place. But Sylvia still corresponded with
young Guy, still spoke of him as the man she meant to marry. It
was true she did not often speak of him, but that might have been
through lack of sympathetic listeners. There was, moreover, about
her an innate reserve which held her back where her deepest
feelings were concerned. But her father knew, and she meant him to
know, that neither time nor distance had eradicated the image of
the man she loved from her heart. The days on which his letters
reached her were always marked with a secret gladness, albeit the
letters themselves held sometimes little more than affectionate
commentary upon her own.

That Guy was making his way and that he would eventually return to
her were practical certainties in her young mind. If his letters
contained little to support this belief, she yet never questioned
it for a moment. Guy was the sort to get on. She was sure of it.
And he was worth waiting for. Oh, she could afford to be patient
for Guy. She did not, moreover, believe that her father would hold
out for ever. Also, and secretly this thought buoyed her up in
rare moments of depression, in another two years--when she was
twenty-five--she would inherit some money from her mother. It was
not a very large sum, but it would be enough to render her
independent. It would very greatly increase her liberty of action.
She had little doubt that the very fact of it would help to
overcome her father's prejudices and very considerably modify his
attitude.