"Thirza, that is cynical; besides, it doesn't affect this case. I can't
bear to think of my little Nollie giving herself for a moment which may
come to nothing, or may turn out the beginning of an unhappy marriage.
Who is this boy--what is he? I know nothing of him. How can I give her
to him--it's impossible! If they had been engaged some time and I
knew something of him--yes, perhaps; even at her age. But this hasty
passionateness--it isn't right, it isn't decent. I don't understand,
I really don't--how a child like that can want it. The fact is, she
doesn't know what she's asking, poor little Nollie. She can't know the
nature of marriage, and she can't realise its sacredness. If only her
mother were here! Talk to her, Thirza; you can say things that I can't!"

Thirza looked after the retreating figure. In spite of his cloth,
perhaps a little because of it, he seemed to her like a child who had
come to show her his sore finger. And, having finished the arrangement
of her flowers, she went out to find her niece. She had not far to go;
for Noel was standing in the hall, quite evidently lying in wait. They
went out together to the avenue.

The girl began at once:

"It isn't any use talking to me, Auntie; Cyril is going to get a
license."

"Oh! So you've made up your minds?"

"Quite."

"Do you think that's fair by me, Nollie? Should I have asked him here if
I'd thought this was going to happen?"