"Why on earth not? Here, let me get at that stove. We're going to have some tea. But why on earth not?"
"I know she was jealous. Maurie used to write her lots of letters about me. She was afraid he was getting to love me. I could see that this afternoon. I could see it so plainly that I told her. I admitted that I'd tried to get him to love me and failed."
"You did try?"
"Yes; I suppose it was about the meanest thing I've ever done."
Janet laid down the kettle silently on the stove, then came and sat on the arm of Sally's chair. One hand she laid on her shoulder, with the other she raised her face.
"I haven't appreciated you sufficiently, Sally," she said in a toneless voice. "You're not the sort that gets appreciation. But, my God! I think you're wonderful. Do I keep saying 'God' too much, d'you think?"
CHAPTER V
That night Sally sat in her old rooms once more and wrote a letter to Traill. The return to them had for one moment surged back in a rushing flood of memories; but it did not overwhelm her. She threw herself into no quagmire of despair. Her eyes were tearless. All her actions were such as those of a person dazed with sleep. One hope she had in her heart which animated her, just as the hope of ultimate rest will give sluggish life to the person whose eyes are heavy with fatigue.
Towards the realization of that hope, she seated herself at her desk and wrote to Traill.
"DEAR JACK,