“Of course, about New Year's, I began to wobble, but mother had me take massage and electricity and kept me going until Lent. After that I collapsed until summer. Then we went to White Sulphur, where the Dillinghams have a cottage, I had to lie down every afternoon, but I was always able to be up for the dances.”
The nurse coming in with a long flower box, paused in surprise at the sight of her patient sitting up, then discreetly tiptoed out again.
“Somebody has sent you some flowers!” cried Miss Lady excitedly. “How nice! Shall I open the box?”
“Just as you like. They are probably from Lee. He sends them now instead of coming.”
“But there may be a note,” said Miss Lady, searching in the tissue paper.
Margery shook her head wearily; the little animation that had flushed her face, died out leaving it wan and listless.
“I suppose you think this is a queer way for an engaged girl to talk,” she said presently, with a nervous catch in her voice. “The truth is Lee and I have quarreled over my uncle, Donald Morley. I will never forgive him for the way he has treated Don; never!”
“You will if you love him,” said Miss Lady.
“But I'm not sure that I do!” burst out Margery. “I oughtn't to say it! I shan't say it again, but I shall die if I don't talk to somebody. Mother won't listen to a word. She says it's nerves. But the truth is, Miss Lady, I've never been sure; that's what's making me ill!”
“Have you told him?”