"It was well to get her out of the way, no doubt. They'll be married before you now, Dolly."
"That won't break my heart, aunt."
"I don't suppose there'll be much of a wedding. They haven't anybody belonging to them, except that uncle at Gloucester." Then there was a pause. "I think it is a nice thing for friends to collect together at a wedding," continued Aunt Stanbury.
"I think it is," said Dorothy, in the mildest, softest voice.
"I suppose we must make room for that black sheep of a brother of yours, Dolly,—or else you won't be contented."
"Dear, dear, dearest aunt!" said Dorothy, falling down on her knees at her aunt's feet.
CHAPTER LXXXIV.
SELF-SACRIFICE.
