much older than Cheneston, Grace, or I—he must be forty—and he is very rich. Walter Markham is awfully nice to me; sometimes he leaves Grace Gilpin to Cheneston and walks with me, and he is teaching me tennis in the mornings before breakfast. He is much older than Cheneston, Grace, or I—he must be forty—and he is very rich. I wonder if Grace will marry him—or if she will marry Cheneston. Sometimes I think he will forget he is angry with her, and he will tell her how the mistaken idea of our "engagement" arose, and why he let it prosper—there is a frightful lot of the open-hearted, impetuous schoolboy about Cheneston. I wonder if Grace will marry him—or if she will marry Cheneston. Sometimes I think he will forget he is angry with her, and he will tell her how the mistaken idea of our "engagement" arose, and why he let it prosper—there is a frightful lot of the open-hearted, impetuous schoolboy about Cheneston. I don't think he is happy. I don't think he is happy. If he made a clean breast of it to Grace we should have to break off our supposed "engagement," and mother would have to take me away—father couldn't leave. If he made a clean breast of it to Grace we should have to break off our supposed "engagement," and mother would have to take me away—father couldn't leave. I can imagine what my life would be! I can imagine what my life would be! I think they would pack me off as governess or companion to someone. I think they would pack me off as governess or companion to someone. I know if I don't marry by a certain age that will be my fate. Mother was perfectly honest about it—before Cheneston came along; now I am her dear little daughter, she looks at me in pleased bewilderment sometimes, as if wondering how so homely a hunter could have achieved such a sensational capture. I know if I don't marry by a certain age that will be my fate. Mother was perfectly honest about it—before Cheneston came along; now I am her dear little daughter, she looks at me in pleased bewilderment sometimes, as if wondering
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