“Why, didn’t you begin by keeping my secret from that stationmaster—about Mary Smith. I felt like—like nothing I ever felt before when he brought you up and said you were English.”
“You tried your best to speak English.”
“It was like—like a glorious dream come true when you looked so grave and answered me in German. I’m not used to having people do kind things for me, except my dear mother. And when we stood outside the station, I—well, I’d have given anything just to have unloaded my whole stock of trouble to you.”
“Poor Peggy!”
“No, not Peggy, she hasn’t any troubles of that sort yet. They are—Bob’s. But it’s poor Volna; and Peggy will soon be Volna again.”
I did not know how to answer this. There was such a touch of sadness in it: so I said nothing.
“May I tell you?” she asked presently.
“Sylvia always tells me hers; so I know how to keep a secret.”
“I told you I had a half-sister and brother, didn’t I?”
“Are they like you at all?”