"Sybil, dear," she said affectionately, and then stopped.
They sat in silence for some time, looking at the great logs burning in
the deep fire-place.
"Sybil, dear," Mrs. Wyndham began again, presently, "why did you refuse
Vancouver? You do not mind telling me, do you?"
"Why do you ask?" said Sybil. "It makes no difference now."
"No, perhaps not. Only I always thought it strange. He must have done
something you did not like, of course."
"Yes, that was it. He did something I did not like. Mr. Harrington would
have said he had a perfect right to do as he pleased. But I could not
marry him after that."
"Was it anything so very bad?" asked Mrs. Wyndham, affectionately,
smoothing Sybil's thick fair hair.
"It was not as deep as a well, nor as broad as a house," said Sybil, with
a faint, scornful laugh; "but it was enough. It would do."
"I wish you would tell me, dear," persisted Mrs. Wyndham. "I have a
particular reason for wanting to know."
"Well, I would not have told before this other affair came out," said
Sybil.
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