"Ain't you alone, too?" she asked.
"Yes," Cherry replied, "and I feel—sometimes—as if I can't stand it any longer. But then—I have my father."
"Yes," Anne responded, "it's different. An' when you ask me if I find it hard—I do. Sometimes—well, I just don't think about it. If I started thinkin' I'd go crazy. But thinkin' doesn't get you anywhere."
They were both silent for some time, Cherry intent upon some sewing that she was doing, Anne sitting watching her across the table. At last Cherry made another effort.
"I hope you won't think it funny of me, Anne," she remarked, looking up at the girl and smiling, "but I have never known you by anything other than—just Anne. King never introduced us properly."
"There's been mighty little time for introducin' anyone," Anne replied.
"Yes; but King has never even told me your name," Cherry continued.
Anne was not quick to answer. "Reason is," she said slowly, after a long pause, "he didn't know it himself."
Cherry's face expressed surprise.
"But I thought you and he were good friends," she remarked—and something of the old Eve was rising in her. She had been struggling all evening to keep it down, but now she found herself searching Anne's face for the slightest change of color or expression that would betray her feelings.