"But if we marry so soon it seems like a disrespect to Mrs. Vand," argued Bella, "and she has left me her money, remember."
"My dear, don't be morbid," advised Dora; "you will be ill if you stay. Get married, and go to Paris, and try to forget all these terrible things."
"What do you say, Pence?" asked Cyril, who in the meantime had carried out Bella's boxes.
Pence, looking lean and haggard after his recent illness, but with a much calmer light in his eyes, nodded. "I say, go, Miss Faith, and get married as soon as you can."
"You wouldn't have given that advice once," said Bella, with a faint smile, as Dora assisted her to adjust her cloak.
"No. But I have grown wiser."
"What a compliment!"
"You have forgiven me, have you not?"
"Yes, I have." She held out her hand, "and the best thing I can wish you is the best wife in the world."
As if by chance, her eyes rested on Dora, who blushed, and then on Pence, who grew red. Afterwards, with half a smile and half a sigh, she got into the car beside Cyril. Dora hopped like a bird on to the step to kiss her.