"Sybil! For Heaven's sake! See!" She thrust the paper upon her step-mother's knee and pointed with a finger that shook uncontrollably at a brief announcement in the society column.
"We are requested to state that the announcement in yesterday's issue that the marriage arranged between Viscount Merrivale and Miss Hilary St.
Orme would not take place was erroneous.

The marriage will take place, as previously announced, towards the end of the season." * * * * * "What sublime assurance!" exclaimed Bertie St.Orme, lying on his back in the luxurious punt which his sister was leisurely impelling up stream, and laughing up at her flushed face.

"This viscount of yours seems to have plenty of decision of character, whatever else he may be lacking in." Bertie St.Orme was a cripple, and spent every summer regularly upon the river with his old manservant, nicknamed "the Badger." "Oh, he is quite impossible!" Hilary declared.

"Let's talk of something else!" "But he means to keep you to your word, eh ?" her brother persisted.

"How will you get out of it ?" Hilary's face flushed more deeply, and she bit her lip.
"There won't be any getting out of it.