Then with a sudden reversion to his customary manner he said:

"And now tell me about Morrell."

Lynda started; the situation puzzled her. She had meant to
comfort--instead she seemed to have hurt and confused her old friend.

"About John Morrell?" she murmured with a rising perplexity; "there
isn't much to tell."

"I thought it was a long story, Lynda."

"Somehow it doesn't seem long when you get close to it. But surely you
must see, Uncle William, that after--after father and mother--I would
naturally be a bit keener than most girls. It would never do for me to
marry the wrong man and, of course, a girl never really knows until--she
faces the situation at close quarters. I should never have engaged
myself to John Morrell--that was the real mistake; and it was only when
he felt sure of me--that I knew! Uncle William, I must have my own life,
and John--well, he meant to have his own and mine, too. I couldn't stand
it! I have struggled up and conquered little heights just as he
has--just as Con and Brace have; we've all scrambled up together. It
didn't seem quite fair that they should--well, fly their colours from
their peaks and that I should" (here Lynda laughed) "cuddle under John's
standard. I don't always believe in his standard; I don't approve of it.
Much as I like men, I don't think they are qualified to arrange, sort,
fix, and command the lives of women. If a woman thinks the abdication
justifies the gains, that's all right. If I had sold myself,
honourably, to John Morrell I would have kept to the agreement; I hate