She was observant and sad, patient and kind, while my manner to her was often irritable and repellent.

One night she stole into my room when I was sinking to sleep, and bent over me in my bed.

"My darling, my sister!" she said, "let me kiss you, let me put my arms round you.

Oh! why will you always turn away from me ?" I did not answer, except by moving my face shudderingly aside.
"Margery," she whispered again, "tell me why you have turned against me and John Hollingford." "You and John!" said I, opening my eyes and looking at her.

"Yes, that is it.