"Of course I'm pretty!" she cried childishly, pointing to herself in the glass. "I shall make a nice little visitor."
"You will always be one, my sunbeam," he said.
She shivered a little at his words, but she would not permit herself to think, determined to have her old carelessness, her old peace back, if she could grasp it.
"How is Tom?" she asked.
"Dreadfully anxious about you, poor fellow."
"Did he ask for Bessie?"
"Yes—yes."
"But you said nothing?"
"No, Elsie; he knows nothing."
"That is right," she said; "I can tell him better than you. Be kind to him, Grant."