"I should hope she won't, for Jockie's sake," Gavine said earnestly. "When she does undertake a thing, she ought to stick to it. That was her great fault at school, she was brilliantly clever, but would never persevere."
"And perseverance comes easily to you?" Sidney asked with a smile.
"Yes, I lack in initiative. I can't start things, but when once started I'm all right. Jockie is a very good starter."
Sidney was interested in the girl; not so much in what she said, but in the smouldering fires which shone in her deep blue eyes, and in the changing expression of her face. She said to her:
"You take life earnestly, Miss Norman."
"Who wouldn't? Oh, Miss Urquhart, it is a tremendous thing, isn't it? There is so much to gain, and so much to lose."
Her lips quivered. She touched the volume she had been reading.
"These are some essays by Carlyle, and Macaulay, and Emerson. I am only dipping into them, but they make you think, don't they? And they make me long to work. I have had so much time to think and to read. I am simply yearning to do—"
"You must come and see me, and we will have a good talk together," said Sidney, being almost startled by the vehemence in the girl's tone.
Mrs. Norman had caught a bit of the conversation.