“Oh!” Mollie’s face sobered, and a little chill came over her spirits. “You are still determined, then? Nothing has happened to make you change your mind?”
“What should have happened?” replied Jack the ungallant. “There has been nothing behind the scenes, Miss Mollie—nothing that you do not know of. Only I prefer to go back to my work—that’s all. I consented to remain for a week to please Mr Farrell, but I don’t see that I am called upon to make any further sacrifice. I have my life’s work before me, and just now it needs all the attention I can give it. Besides, Mr Farrell and I would never get on; I should be a disturbing element which would not improve matters for any of you. Between ourselves, I think there is little doubt who will be the Chosen, as you express it. Your sister is evidently first in favour. Witness your experience a few minutes ago.”
Mollie stared before her, thoughtful and absent-minded. One word in Jack’s speech had detached itself from the rest and printed itself on her brain. Sacrifice! He had stayed at the Court for a week as a matter of necessity, and did not feel called upon to sacrifice his inclinations any further. Sacrifice, indeed! The word rankled the more as she realised how differently she herself had described the past five days, and how high Jack Melland’s presence had ranked among the pleasures of the new life. When she projected her thoughts into the future, and imagined living through the same scenes without his companionship, it was extraordinary how flat and dull they suddenly became. But he called it a “sacrifice” to stay away from a dingy, dreary office, and preferred the society of his partner to all the Mollie Farrells in the world! He liked her, of course—she could not pretend to doubt that; but just as a grown man might care for an amusing child who served to while away an idle hour, but who was not worth the trouble of a serious thought.
“He thinks I am shallow,” thought Mollie sorrowfully, and then suddenly inverted the sentence. “Am I shallow?” she asked herself, with an uneasy doubt creeping over her self-complacency. “I expect I am, for I am content with the surface of things, and like to laugh better than to think. But I’m twenty; I don’t want to be treated as a child all my life. It’s horrid of him to talk of sacrifices!”
Thoughts fly quickly, but, even so, the pause was long enough to be unusual. Jack looked inquiringly at the thoughtful face, and said smilingly—
“Why, Miss Mollie, you look quite sober! I never saw you so serious before. Is that because I said that your sister was preferred before you?”
That aroused Mollie to a flash of indignation.
“No, indeed; I am not so mean. I’d almost sooner Ruth had things than myself, for I’d have all the fun and none of the trouble. Besides, she wants it more than I do, and would be a hundred times more disappointed to do without. And then you must not blame Uncle Bernard too much. He had a good reason for saying what he did. I deserved it.—You will never guess what I did.”
Jack looked amused and curious.
“Nothing very dreadful, I feel sure. You are too hard on yourself, Miss Mollie.”