"Are you unhappy, Sally?" she asked, when, from the sounds of her weeping, she had become more rational.
There was no answer.
"Are you, Sally?"
"Yes, frightfully—frightfully! Oh, I wish I hadn't got to go on." It was rent from her heart, torn from her. All the spirit in her was broken—crushed.
"But why, my darling? Why?" The thin arms held her tighter, warm lips kissed her neck and shoulders. "Did he treat you badly—did he?"
"No!"
Janet gleaned much in the directness of that answer.
"Doesn't he care for you?"
She knew then that Sally cared for him.
"I don't know. How could I know?"