"I have not the slightest idea," replied Jane. "I am completely
ignorant on the subject of facial massage."

"Not much, I should think," continued Garth, "or she would not have
told us."



"Ah, you are wrong there," replied Jane, quickly. "Myra is
extraordinarily honest, and always inclined to be frank about
herself and her foibles. She had a curious upbringing. She is one of
a large family, and was always considered the black sheep, not so
much by her brothers and sisters, as by her mother. Nothing she was,
or said, or did, was ever right. When Lord Ingleby met her, and I
suppose saw her incipient possibilities, she was a tall, gawky girl,
with lovely eyes, a sweet, sensitive mouth, and a what-on-earth-am-
I-going-to-do-next expression on her face. He was twenty years her
senior, but fell most determinedly in love with her and, though her
mother pressed upon him all her other daughters in turn, he would
have Myra or nobody. When he proposed to her it was impossible at
first to make her understand what he meant. His meaning dawned on
her at length, and he was not kept waiting long for her answer. I
have often heard him tease her about it. She looked at him with an
adorable smile, her eyes brimming over with tears, and said: 'Why,
of course. I'll marry you GRATEFULLY, and I think it is perfectly
sweet of you to like me. But what a blow for mamma!' They were
married with as little delay as possible, and he took her off to
Paris, Italy, and Egypt, had six months abroad, and brought her
back--this! I was staying with them once, and her mother was also
there. We were sitting in the morning room,--no men, just half a