“It isn’t that.”
“May, I ask what other reason can possibly exist?”
“There are several.”
“Give me one,” I insisted.
“I think,” she said deliberately—“I rather think I am going to marry your brother Edward.”
I threw up my hands with a gesture of sympathy.
“You poor, silly girl!” I said. “What ever has induced you to think that?”
“Your brother Edward.”
“It was because he asked us to be kind to you,” she went on, “that me and mother took the trouble to look after you of an evening. It’s kept you out of mischief.”