inevitably have lost it.

To go on with that important conference in the
sitting-room in the handsome, roomy house of the Gowers
at Hanging Rock, Frank Gower eagerly seized upon his
wife's subtly nasty remark. ``I don't see why in
thunder you haven't married, Milly,'' said he. ``You've
had every chance, these last four or five years.''

``And it'll be harder now,'' moaned her mother.
``For it looks as though we were going to be wretchedly
poor. And poverty is so repulsive.''

``Do you think,'' said Mildred, ``that giving me the
idea that I must marry right away will make it easier
for me to marry? Everyone who knows us knows our
circumstances.'' She looked significantly at Frank's
wife, who had been wailing through Hanging Rock
the woeful plight of her dead father-in-law's family.
The young Mrs. Gower blushed and glanced away.
``And,'' Mildred went on, ``everyone is saying that I
must marry at once--that there's nothing else for me
to do.'' She smiled bitterly. ``When I go into the
street again I shall see nothing but flying men. And
no man would come to call unless he brought a chaperon
and a witness with him.''

``How can you be so frivolous?'' reproached her
mother.