"Nearly two years, but then I worked slowly, and my sight is not so good as it used to be," Miss Chester answered.
Marie took up a fold of the shawl. It was exquisitely soft and of the finest pattern.
"It would make a lovely shawl for a baby," she said, and then flushed, meeting her aunt's eyes. She got up and went over to the piano, and began turning over some music. She knew the thought that had been in Miss Chester's mind, and her heart ached. Young as she was herself Marie loved children, and one very tender dream had gone crashing to earth with the ruins when her castle fell.
Dorothy had flung herself into an armchair, her arms folded behind her head, her eyes fixed moodily on the ceiling.
There was a softened, chastened look about her this evening. The masculinity which was usually her chief characteristic seemed to have gone, leaving in its place something of greater attraction.
"Play something, Marie," she said suddenly, but Marie shook her head. "I don't feel in the mood for music." She dragged up a stool 235 and sat down at Miss Chester's feet. Across the hall she could hear Feathers' voice and Chris' laugh, and she listened to both with a queer feeling of unreality.
"What an ugly man Mr. Dakers is!" Dorothy said suddenly. "I don't think I ever saw anyone so ugly before."
The color rushed to Marie's face.
"I don't think he is in the very least bit ugly," she said impulsively. "There is something in his face when he smiles that is far better than just ordinary good looks. What do you think, Aunt Madge?"
She felt angry with Dorothy. All her heart flew to Feathers' defence.