One night, a week later, the two sisters sat talking together long after "Father" had been put to bed.
"Phœbe," said Effie, "why did you want me to come with you and Mr. Gibson?"
"Because——" said Phœbe.
"My dear, it's you he likes, not me."
"Don't, Effie."
"But it's true," said Effie.
"How can you tell?" said Phœbe, and she felt perfidious.
"Isn't he always going about with you?"
But Phœbe was ingenious in the destruction of her own joy.
"Oh," said she, "that's his cunning. He likes you dreadfully. He goes about with me, just to hide it."