“Yes, I think we are,” answered Effie with a pleased and conscious smile. “You see, Raby and Ray aren’t a bit intellectual, they don’t care to read or talk about books, and Cyril is so clever. He reads to me sometimes and lends me books, and we talk about them afterwards. I have a lot of time for thinking about things. Cyril thinks a great deal too. I suppose that’s why he likes coming. Do you think he thinks me clever, Sheila?”
“I don’t know. He did not say.”
“I don’t call myself clever,” went on Effie, “but I think in my own way; I don’t go by what other people tell me. I like to have my own ideas about things. One ought to be original, don’t you think? Mother often says I have such an original mind. I think perhaps I shall write some day when I am stronger. I have done a few things. Cyril saw one or two. I think he was rather anxious for me to go on. Perhaps I’ll show them to you some day. I took a prize once at an essay competition; Cyril helped me. He was very proud when I got the prize.”
Effie was quite happy now, fairly launched upon her favourite topic. Sheila listened and tried to be sympathetic, but wished that Cyril had stayed longer. His conversation was more interesting a good deal than Effie’s. Presently there was rather a long silence between the girls, and then Effie asked suddenly—
“Sheila, do you think there’s any harm in cousins marrying?”
“I don’t know,” answered Sheila, waking from her day-dream. “Why should there be? Don’t they often do it?”
“Yes, very often; but some people don’t like it. I never quite know why. I can’t see why they shouldn’t.”
Sheila turned a glance rather full of interest upon Effie.
“Does Cyril want to marry you?” she asked, with the outspoken candour of girlhood.
Effie’s face flamed, but there was a lurking smile in her eyes. She looked down and twisted her hands together.