"Oh!" Phyllis's tone was carefully devoid of interest. She also took up a stocking from the pile at her sister's elbow and began to work.
"I asked him how he was getting on," Molly continued. "He said that Dr. Finsbury was awfully good to him, and treated him almost like a son. He asked very particularly after you; and when I told him you were coming home he said that he should try and manage to come over and see you. But he is evidently beginning to be rather important, and he can't get away very easily. He asked a good many questions about you, and wanted to know if I thought you were happy and well."
"I see." Again the absence of interest in Phyllis's tone was so marked as to be almost unnatural.
Molly dismissed the subject with a far better executed air of indifference.
"And you are really going to marry Earl Wyverton," she said. "How nice, Phyl! Did he make love to you?"
There was a distinct pause before Phyllis replied. "No. There was no need."
"He didn't!" ejaculated Molly.
"I didn't encourage him to," Phyllis confessed. "He went away directly after. He said he should come to-morrow and see dad."
"I suppose he's frightfully rich?" said Molly, reflectively.
"Enormously, I believe." A deep red flush rose in Phyllis's face. She had begun to tremble again in spite of herself. Molly suddenly dropped her work and leaned forward.