And the chain against which she had chafed so long and bitterly had turned to links of purest gold.
* * * * * The Consolation Prize "So you don't want to marry me ?" said Earl Wyverton.
He said it by no means bitterly.

There was even the suggestion of a smile on his clean-shaven face.

He looked down at the girl who stood before him, with eyes that were faintly quizzical.

She was bending at the moment to cut a tall Madonna lily from a sheaf that grew close to the path.

At his quiet words she started and the flower fell.
He stooped and picked it up, considered it for a moment, then slipped it into the basket that was slung on her arm.
"Don't be agitated," he said, gently.