was an extremely pretty, even a beautiful girl. "You know Myrtle," she
repeated; "and why father is so blind is more than I can understand.
She doesn't care a ribbon for truth, she never thinks of anything but
her own comfort and clothes, and--and she'd make David miserable. Myrtle
simply can't fancy anybody but herself. That's very different from me,
Howat; or yourself. You would be a burning lover." He laughed
incredulously. "And I, well, I know what I feel.

"It's practically made up for David to marry Myrtle, that is, to urge it
all that's possible; and she will never care for him, while all he
thinks of now is how good looking she is. I want David, terribly," she
said, sitting erect with shut hands; "and I will be expected to step
aside, to keep out of the way while Myrtle poses at him. Oh, I know all
about it. I see her rehearsing before the glass. Or I will be expected
to act as a contrast, a plain background, for Myrtle's beauty.

"You see, there is no one I can talk to but yourself. Even mother
wouldn't understand, completely; and she couldn't be honest about
Myrtle. The best of mothers, after all, are women; and, Howat, there is
always a curious formality between women, a little stiffness."

"Well," he demanded, "what do you want me to say, or what did you think
I might do?"

"I don't know," she admitted, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "I
suppose I just wanted a little support, or even some encouragement. I
don't propose to let Myrtle walk off with David and not turn my hand.
Of course I am not a beauty, but then I'm not a ninny, either. And I
have a prettier figure; that is, it will still be pretty in ten or
fifteen years; Myrtle's soft."