"What?" she asked indifferently.
"Come over here, Teddy," Hope said.
"Thank you, I like it better here."
There was a crushing finality in her tone. For a moment, Billy's eyes met those of Hope, and his lips curled into a smile. It was only for an instant; but Theodora saw the glance, and it kindled all her smouldering jealousy of her sister. For two weeks she had been giving all her odd moments to her new neighbor, and now, because Hope was pretty and dainty and quiet and all things that she was not, Billy had promptly turned his back on her and devoted himself to Hope. In her passing vexation, she quite forgot to take into account that she herself, not Billy, had been the movable quantity, and that the time she had given him had been hours of keen enjoyment to herself. Theodora was no saint. She was humanly tempestuous, superhumanly jealous. She could love her friends to distraction; she could give her time and strength and thought to them unreservedly; but in return she demanded a soleness of affection which should match her own.
"Where are you going, Ted?" Hubert called after her.
"Into the house."
"What for?"
"Because I want to. Besides, I must see to Allyn."
"Coming back?"
She turned her head and looked back. Billy was watching her curiously.