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that evening Gwyneth, complaining of a headache, retired to her room. Again and again she read the cruel letter. What did the woman mean? Gwyneth did not want her brother. She crushed the note in her hand and flung it from her.

"Yes, I do," she soliloquized with herself. "That is the terrible part of it. I do love him. Why should I not?" she argued. "His affection drew forth mine." Then again her thoughts took another turn. "Yes; this is the way of society. It cast my mother off and broke her heart, because she presumed to love one 'beneath her.' Now I am shamed and insulted, torn from the object of my affection, because the traditions of society forbid my allying myself with one 'above me.' Does not God teach us to love? Attached as Travers and I are, having so much in common, can