Oh, Phyl, darling, when he comes and asks you to go to him, what will you say ?" Phyllis looked up with quick protest on her lips.

She wrung her hands together with a despairing gesture.
"Molly, Molly," she gasped, "don't torture me! How can I help it?
How can I help it?
I shall have to send him away." "Oh, poor darling!" Molly said.

"Poor, poor darling!" And she gathered her sister into her arms, pressing her close to her heart with a passionate fondness of which only a few knew her to be capable.

There was only a year between them, and Molly had always been the leading spirit, protector and comforter by turns.
Even as she soothed and hushed Phyllis into calmness her quick brain was at work upon the situation.

There must be a way of escape somewhere.