When she had Diantha with her she opened fire direct. “You ought to be the happiest, proudest, most triumphant woman in the world!” she said. “You're making oodles of money, your whole thing's going well, and look at your mother—she's made over!”
Diantha smiled and said she was happy; but her eyes would stray off to the very rim of the ocean; her mouth set in patient lines that were not in the least triumphant.
“Tell me about it, my friend,” said her hostess. “Is it that he won't let you keep on with the business?”
Diantha nodded.
“And you won't give it up to marry him?”
“No,” said Diantha. “No. Why should I? I'd marry him—to-morrow!” She held one hand with the other, tight, but they both shook a little. “I'd be glad to. But I will not give up my work!”
“You look thin,” said Mrs. Weatherstone.
“Yes—”
“Do you sleep well?”
“No—not very.”