"I suppose that is why you always wear a ribbon of true blue?" retorted her friend. "Do let me see what is at the end of it—ah, you will not. I think you are very mean, Carnation. All is over between us from this moment. I'm sure I came and told you as soon as ever George spoke!"
"But perhaps," said Carnation quietly, "my George has not yet spoken!"
"Well, if he hasn't, why don't you make him," said her friend with vehemence, "or else why have eyes like those been thrown away upon you?"
"I have worn this nearly ten years!" said Carnation, a little wistfully.
"Carnation Maybold," said her friend indignantly, "you ought to be ashamed! And so it was for the sake of that school-girl's split sixpence that you refused Harry Foster, whose father has an estate of his own, and Kenneth Walker, the surveyor, as well as—oh, I have no patience with such silly sentiment!"
Carnation smiled even more quietly than usual.
"Gracie," she said, "if I am content, I don't see what difference it can make to you."
"You ought to be married—you oughtn't to live alone with only an old woman to look after you. You are wasting the best years of your life——"
"Gracie, dear," said Carnation, "you mean to be kind; but I ask you not to say any more about this. There are worse things that may happen to a woman, than that she should wait and wait—aye, even if she should die waiting!"
* * * * *