minutes, when the matter took another and wholly unexpected turn. The prelude to a historic incident was the appearance of Sarah on the scene.
The eldest flower, the light of battle in her gray eyes, was plainly bent on mischief. So much was clear as soon as she came into the room. She had not been able to forgive her father for revoking Mrs. Sanderson's notice. It had been a wanton dashing of the cup from lips but little used to victory; and the act had served to embitter a situation which by now was almost unbearable.
Sarah had come of fell purpose, but before playing her great coup, she opened lightly in the manner of a skirmisher. Muriel, it seemed, was the topic that had brought her there; at any rate, it was the topic on which she began, masking with some astuteness the one so much more sinister that lay behind.
"Father, I suppose you know that Muriel has quite made up her mind to get married?"
"So I gather." Detachment could hardly have been carried farther.
"Such a pity," Sarah lightly pursued, "but I'm afraid there's nothing to be done. She was always obstinate."
"Always a fool," muttered his Grace.
"I've been discussing the matter with Aunt Charlotte."
The Duke nodded, but his portentous eyes asked Sarah not to claim one moment more of his time than the circumstances rendered absolutely necessary.
"Aunt Charlotte feels very strongly that it will be wise for you to give your consent."
"Why?" The Duke yawned, but the look in his face was not of the kind that goes with mere boredom. "Any
