Lillian was satisfied and happy; her rich, teeming fancy, her artistic mind, and contented, sweet disposition would have rendered her happy under any circumstances--but it was different with brilliant, beautiful Beatrice.

No wild bird in a cage ever pined for liberty or chafed under restraint more than she did.
She cried out loudly against the unnatural solitude, the isolation of such a life.
Eleven years had done much for Dora.

The coy, girlish beauty that had won Ronald Earle's heart had given place to a sweet, patient womanhood.
Constant association with one so elegant and refined as Mrs.Vyvian had done for her what nothing else could have achieved.

Dora had caught the refined, high-bred accent, the graceful, cultivated manner, the easy dignity.

She had become imbued with Mrs.Vyvian's noble thoughts and ideas.
Dora retained two peculiarities--one was a great dislike for Ronald, the other a sincere dread of all love and lovers for her children.
From her they heard nothing but depreciation of men.