wonderingly at him as he raved on.

"I can't bear her, I never could, since I heard how she abused
you. Why, I'd almost rather you'd be his wife than that gay
widow."

"Suppose I marry him then in her stead," Edith said, laughingly.
"I verily believe he'd exchange."

"Of course he would," Victor answered, bitterly. "The older a man
grows, the younger the girl he selects, and it's a wonder he
didn't ask you first."

"Supposing he had?" returned Edith, bending over a geranium to
hide her agitation. "Supposing he had, and it was I instead of
Grace to whom he is engaged."

"Preposterous!" Victor exclaimed. "You could not do such a thing
in your right senses. Why, I'd rather see you dead than married to
your father. I believe I'd forbid the banns myself," and Victor
strode from the room, banging the door behind him, by way of
impressing Edith still more forcibly with the nature of his
opinion.

Edith was disappointed. She had expected sympathy at least from
Victor, had surely thought he would he pleased to have her for his
mistress, and his words, "I would rather see you dead," hurt her
cruelly. Perhaps every body would say so. It was an unnatural
match, this union of autumn and spring, but she must do something.
Any thing was preferable to the aimless, listless life she was