It arrived just after Ruth and Hilda returned.
"It's from him," said Ruth.
"Open it, silly, and see what he says."
"I'm afraid…."
Hilda stamped her foot. "Give it to me, then," she said.
Ruth held the note to her jealously. She opened it slowly, fearfully, and read the few words it contained.
"Oh…" she said, and held it out to Hilda. She had seen nothing but the bareness, the coldness of it.
"It's perfect," said Hilda. "It's BONBRIGHT. He didn't slop over—he was trying not to slop over, but there's love in every letter, and heartache in every word of it…. And you couldn't love him. Wish I had the chance."
"You—you will have," said Ruth, faintly.
"If I do," said Hilda, shortly, "you bet I WON'T WASTE it."