“Because he thought it. I could feel that he thought it.”
“But I did nothing.”
“You wore your touch-me-not-manners, Janey. You looked so tragic and black. I had to talk my head off to fill in the awkwardnesses.”
“I know you did; but I wasn’t sure of the reason.”
Nan glanced up quickly and her eyes filled; the blood surged into her face and throat; her lips trembled. She pressed her cheek coaxingly against the tall girl’s shoulder. “You foolish Jehane; you’re jealous. Why, Billy and I use to eat blackberries out of each other’s hands.”
Then Jehane relented. Drawing Nan to her with swift, protecting passion, she kissed the wet eyes and pouting mouth. “You dear little Nan, I was jealous. You’re so sweet and gentle; no one could help loving you. I was angry with myself—angry because I’m so different.”
“So much cleverer,” Nan whispered.
“I don’t want to be clever; I’d give everything I possess to look as good and happy as you.”
“But you are good. If you weren’t, we shouldn’t all love you.”
“All? It’s enough that you do.”